Welcome Home
by killthepain62
Summary: Tahna is one of the last of her kind and makes her way through life in the guise of a male ranger. Her skills are many, but she never thought she would be recruited by a dwarf king to reclaim his homeland. However, the truth behind her mask may endanger everything the company is trying to accomplish. M for later chapters. Thorin/OC
1. Just Outside Bree

It has been a relatively fair summer, but it is still young enough to feel the cold bite from the lingering spring night. With this knowledge I recognize that the upcoming autumn and winter will be one of the hardest I have ever seen. Though tonight is one of those colder nights, that isn't how I found my way into the tavern…

I stare harder into the fire as if trying to absorb some of its warmth while I sip my ale at a table in the middle of a dining hall. While it isn't boisterously loud, it most certainly is a busy little place. It appears to be a family run business, considering the little lad helping his big sister and mother race tankards of ale across the hall. The man behind the counter watches each of them warily, concerned as the patrons became more inebriated with each mug. I smile at his worry, and divert my attention to the fire again.

The Hog's Breath is a small time tavern on the edge of Bree. This is a small establishment made for those who are not wealthy enough to stay at a place like the Prancing Pony; though the name isn't exactly as welcoming as it could be. While this tavern was not quite so well endowed or convenient for the weary traveler, it was clean and dry with decent ale. I'm not surprised that this place may have been over looked, but I wish it would receive more recognition. It might have helped the poor people residing in it…

I didn't plan on stopping in any tavern as I passed through Bree. After spending the last three days combing the wilds for a particular dwarf, I still have nothing to show for it. Naturally, I only have myself to blame for putting so much into the rumors – what had I honestly been expecting? As I passed through Bree all corners of the small village were murmuring about of the various dwarves that had passed through there all day. Unfortunately, none of them sounded like the particular dwarf I was looking for when I managed to eavesdrop. Thrain had not been seen in years, but I have a feeling he would be difficult to miss.

However, another observation I made is that when the conversation deviates from the dwarf folk there is dark presence hanging over the people's whispers as they spoke of something sinister. As of last month a cluster of Ettenmoor ghouls had recently come south and nestled in the South Downs. At first, only one careless ranger had suffered at the hands of the foul creatures, but despite the caution taken by the other rangers nearby, four children had been taken by these creatures. It is shocking to hear that they would come so close to town, let alone steal children who would return home in the late hours of the day. The first had been a little girl returning from her grandmother's house, the next two were boys eagerly returning home to show their parents the coins they had earned for chopping wood, and lastly was a baby girl who had been snatched from the cradle.

It makes me sick. Having turned up nothing on Thrain I put the silly rumor behind me and face the current dilemma facing the people of Bree. As much as it pains me I have to wait for another attack. The problem with trying to track ghouls is the fact that they are ethereal beings and when in their element they can be hard to trace. I need something fresh since the last child that had been taken was over a week ago. Some people whisper that perhaps the ghouls had moved on, but no one would blatantly say it, in fear of being responsible for the death of another child. I know the ghouls are very territorial and after the first child, the town's fate had been sealed.

I sigh into the metal half mask covering my mouth. It's cold metal covering everything from nose to my jaw and held there by the straps over and under my ears. I pull it away when I sip my ale, but the coolness helps keep my mind clear so I allow it to settle back into place between drinks.

My original mission would have to be put on hold – again. I should have anticipated this considering I became a ranger of my own volition, but that didn't mean I didn't have my own goals and intentions. Perhaps after this I could start a trek back up north. If I couldn't reach _him_ through Thrain, I have no qualms stirring the hornet's nest.

A large clatter comes from outside and there are people running like blurs past the door, but there is no other sound. Others in the tavern, including myself, look at the door. I purposefully place my back to the rest of the room, despite my instincts and ranger training telling me to put my back to a wall. I need to seem accessible, like I have nothing to hide. The people here wouldn't trust me otherwise and I need to be trusted if I am to stop the threat impending on this town. A few moments pass and a woman is brought in and placed at a table near the door; she couldn't be later than her thirties and fairly pretty, if she weren't sobbing uncontrollably and writhing as if in pain. The man beside her, the one that had brought her in looked fearful, I have no doubt what he just saw.

"They took my baby!" the woman screams.

"Who did?" asks one of the patrons.

"Who do you think?" asks another angrily.

There is a solemn silence that passes through the tavern and it only serves to amplify the poor woman's sobs. The first sound indicating that I had even moved is the gentle rustle of the cloak still firmly attached to my shoulders. My footfalls are the only real warning the people surrounding the weeping mother have before I approach the man who had brought her in. He jumps a little, at first, before he looks at me questioningly. I suppose he is still a little shook up after seeing the ghoul. I'm not surprised – they are silent as death and work from the shadows. I remember what that fear felt like…Not wanting to annoy the man I go about signing in Nezkish, a hand based language used commonly by humans. It is believed to be a blend of the elvish hand signs with a few select dwarven signs from their own language, Iglishmek. His eyes widen before recognizing my intentions.

"What's he saying?" he asks aloud to the room.

I roll my eyes despite myself. I have stopped being annoyed by being referred to as a 'he,' especially since I found it has helped me in many a situation. I stand at about five foot ten and while I am lean, the muscle I have built up easily conceals my true gender. I have cut my hair very short, even shorter than most men. I thought it made me look more feminine with how narrow it makes my face look. The mask partly helps with that as well. However, I feel like many of my more subtle movements and mannerism it should be obvious that I am a woman. Over the years I found that I cannot help finding some amusement in the fact that men couldn't tell I am a woman. It reminds me of how long I have been searching...

"Is there anyone here who knows Nezkish?" he asks loudly.

Come to think of it I have so well adjusted to my male role, that I wear the mask to hide the more feminine features of my body as well as my voice. There is a cover within the mask that prevents my voice from escaping, and the story behind that addition to my travel attire is better left forgotten. Thankfully, my teaching in Nezkish as a child still comes in handy.

"I can."

I turn and I'm sure there is great surprise to be found in my eyes. Standing there is the little boy who had been working behind the bar earlier. I recognize his little blond head that had passed me many times to treat patrons closer to the back of the hall. He couldn't be more than 10 seasons of age, but I am more surprised to see the light bronze color of his skin and well-rounded size of his cheeks; I have seen too many sickly pale children his age, but they were barely even half his size. His father, the barkeep, stands behind him with his hands on his son's shoulders for support. The man must be nearing fifty, but his eyes almost seem older, particularly when he looks at his son. I eye the man curiously, wondering how his son came across learning Nezkish, especially when he didn't.

"His little sister is mute, good Ranger. He has learned the language on his own by picking it up from travelers and is now teaching her. My wife and I are learning as well, but my son knows the language far better," the father explains.

What a smart little boy. My gaze falls back down upon the boy with new admiration. I find him returning my gaze and I take another good look at him. While his clothes are well worn, he fits them well, as a child should. He gasps as he feels the full force of my eyes, but I can see that he is curious about me. I suddenly have a new sense of vigor as I think of the children that were killed and wonder if they were anything like this brilliant little boy…I sign quicker now and with purpose.

"He wants you to take him to where the girl was taken," he says shakily. I smile under my mask. I find it very endearing that he wants to do well before me and his father. It's adorable.

"What does he think he can do? These are Ettenmoor ghouls; they are like shadows. They remain unseen unless they wish to be seen. One ranger already perished. You cannot defeat them," says a man at a nearby table. A loud whimper emerges from the mother who had, until now, fallen silent.

I am wasting my time at this point, but I don't know where the attack occurred so until then I am stuck here being useless, while the ghoul returns to the South Downs. These people were going to kill another child if they did not make haste.

"Do you have any idea who this is?"

A slight shiver runs down my spine as I recognize the voice, it didn't matter what form he took, he always sounds the same. All heads turn to man situated near the door of the tavern, but I feel no need to look at him. He had likely chosen another face to tell everyone the same story. I do not know who he is, but he knows me inside and out; every good deed I have ever done and all of my darkest memories. It does not frighten me, but it rarely does me any favors. I have a feeling he is in league with the wizard, but I could not tell. He never spoke to me directly unless I approached him, but even then he is evasive.

"This is the Golden-Eyed Ranger," he continued, "He hails from the greatest clan of orc killers these lands have ever seen. His clan alone held off the orcs of Gundabad for the last part of the second age. This ranger has travelled all over helping the free people of Middle Earth and faced creatures far more terrifying than a few ghouls."

I can now look at the man and indeed the face had changed. His blond hair is slick with natural oil and some dirt. He has green eyes and a strong chin, which likely hadn't seen a razor in two days. His wardrobe is simple and plain, but the mud on his trousers and boots indicate that he had been working; that, and the angry welts on his hands. The last time we had met we had been in the small town along the Icebay of Forochel, trying to help the locals with an ice beast believed to be a descendent of Carcharoth. I had found myself being challenged in similar fashion on the docks when he appeared. He had been an old man that time, easily forty years older than the face he wears now, but somehow just as captivating. He has appeared many times before that as well in the various places I had passed throughout Middle Earth; he had been an elf, a child, and even a woman once. I have taken to calling him The Storyteller. I call him this because the only thing consistent about this being is that he would tell my story wherever I went.

"Is that true?" asks the barkeep. I don't remove my eyes from the Storyteller while I sign to his son.

"He says, 'Yes,'" says the boy.

There is a moment of silence as the people in the tavern weigh their options. Slowly they began whispering amongst one another trying to decide if I am worthy of the deed before me and wasting more time. I never thought the people of Bree would be so wary of strangers, they were acting as secretive and cautious as a bunch of dwarves. I am knocked out of my reverie by a hand squeezing on the armor on my forearm. It is the mother who seems to have now finally gotten a hold of herself. Her eyes plead with me, using words that do not need to be spoken. I nod to her, a promise to do my best…should these fools actually let me go after the ghouls.

I take another hard glance at the man beside her and I can see some familiarity between the two. Perhaps they are brother and sister? He finally takes me in as a whole and sends me a skeptical look. I send him a silent, challenging glare in hopes that he will give in. However, he raises his head high and looks me in the eye. I can't tell if he is trying to intimidate me, but since I initiated the challenge nothing less should be expected.

"Follow me, Ranger," he says.

* * *

Elsewhere on the same night, poor Bilbo Baggins had just spent the evening entertaining a company of 13 dwarves. They had properly decimated his pantry, damaged his property, and destroyed his poor bathroom. However, he found their current situation almost charming, if not a little sorrowful. The dwarves sang of home and the destruction that befell them in the Lonely Mountain. Even though Bilbo was still quite perturbed by the sudden invasion he could not help, but feel empathy for the uninvited guests. Losing one's home would certainly stir great sorrow. Though their plight, and his good manners, prevents him from kicking them out of his house entirely, he is still quite set on not following Gandalf's request to join them in the morning.

Somewhere along his travels, Bilbo is sure that Gandalf has forgotten what it means to be a hobbit. They are not warriors, or burglars; what could he possibly do to help them? Part of him, though he would never admit it out loud, is quite intrigued with the idea of an adventure. While he had never considered incineration as his possible demise before tonight, the idea of going out to see all that Middle-Earth had to offer is almost tempting. However, Bilbo has a name and a reputation to uphold in the Shire. He is his father's son, but at the same time when he thought of his mother he knew she would have gone in an instant.

Bilbo's face fills with sorrow as he thinks of his mother. He remembers that she had gone to Rivendell several times and wanted to take him when he was older; she even managed to get his father to agree. But that was before that winter…The outside world is not made for hobbits and that was that. As the night stretched on Bilbo fell asleep at the end of his bed, listening to the grumbling of sleeping dwarves. As Bilbo's night ends, the Golden-Eyed Ranger's has only just begun.

It is sundown on the next day when Thorin and his troupe made it to the small city of Bree. Thorin and Dwalin had debated the latter half of the day on whether or not they should push on, but with the miraculous reappearance of their burglar they decide one more night sleeping with a roof over their heads wasn't such a bad idea. Thorin initially planned on taking the company to the Prancing Pony, despite his previous encounter with the bounty hunters, but there were too many people and the risk of the journey was too great to chance it. So they stop at the farthest corner of Bree and manage to find a tavern.

"Hog's Breath? I surely hope they aren't talking about the owner," says Kili. The company burst out a short bout of laughter. Even Thorin gave a light chuckle.

"We will rest here tonight," he says, returning to his cold and determined demeanor.

Gandalf goes inside to pay for the stabling and lodging for the night leaving the company to their own devices. Thorin and the other dwarves go to stable their ponies, but it would appear that the hobbit was having trouble with his mount. As Bilbo tries to bring one of his large feet over the pony to get off, the pony shifts uncomfortably and he sits back down. He did this three times before Bofur and Bombur took pity on him and got him off the pony. Thorin didn't bother to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the incapable hobbit. Thorin knows the halfling is inexperienced, but at this point he would be impressed if Bilbo could find his room in the tavern by himself.

The dwarves enter the tavern as the hobbit trails after them like a dog following its master. The hovel isn't all that large, but it the large influx of people that makes it seem much smaller. Most of them crowd near the entrance, actually looking at the company expectedly before looking away again, almost…disappointed. This seems odd to Thorin; that the people here didn't take notice of the company of dwarves that just marched through the door, which he imagines is quite odd for the town, let alone the tavern. There are a few patrons actually drinking scattered among the tables, but not many. As Thorin navigates through the crowd he found Gandalf at the front of the bar. He approaches the wizard, wary of the patrons.

"What is going on here?" Thorin asks.

"Apparently last night a ranger went after some Ettenmoor ghouls that had taken a small child. He has not yet returned," says Gandalf solemnly. "Everyone here is eagerly awaiting his return."

"Awaiting a dead man," says Thorin bitterly. "Ghouls travel in packs and Ettenmoor ghouls are particularly swift. No man can take them alone."

"Then you have not heard of our ranger, Master Dwarf," says a man sitting at a table closest to the bar. The man appears to be no stranger to hard times or hard work judging by the ash smeared along his face and the calluses on his hands. He currently smokes a pipe, eyeing the dwarves with curiosity. Thorin does not appreciate the curious look his company receives since the last thing he needs is someone asking questions. Dwalin, who senses his king's hostility, steps forward with his hands on his axes. Gandalf also hones in on this odd character, finding him familiar, but unable to place him.

"Oh? What is so special about your ranger?" asks Fili in a challenging manner. He had also sensed his uncle's discomfort and sought to aid him. The man didn't seem offended in the least – on the contrary, he looks quite excited at the prospect of someone listening to his stories.

"The Golden-Eyed Ranger," he pauses for effect, "Is one of the most powerful men in all of Middle Earth."

A heavy pause fills the air before the dwarves starts laughing. The man had a look of surprise about his face, as if this were a reaction he hadn't expected. A similar look passes over Bilbo's face, but he became curious despite himself.

"Who is the Golden-Eyed Ranger?" he asks genuinely.

The mysterious man leans in closer to the hobbit, causing the small halfling to shrink back some. Gandalf, though more out of worry for the hobbit, leans closer as well.

"Well have you ever heard of Erebor?" asks the man.

For a moment the group tenses again, unsure of how to respond to the man's question. However, Bilbo quickly answers him to avoid any further questions.

"We've heard of it…in stories that is," Bilbo amends.

The man continues to smile at the small creature and presses forward with his tale.

"A day's journey from Erebor into the Grey Mountains lays a fortress; a fortress called Imelkane. There housed some of the greatest warriors of Middle Earth. They have fought alongside men, elves, and dwarves alike against the evils of Gundabad," he spoke, enjoying the attention given to him by the company. "These warriors were gifted with strong hearts and golden eyes. For the last part of the Second Age they held back the stronghold of Gundabad until it finally fell dormant. There was peace…until the resurgence little over a decade ago. They burned the fortress and annihilated the inhabitants within. Very few survived."

"The clan of Imelkane hasn't been seen in years," says Thorin roughly. "What makes you think the ranger is one of them?"

"The golden eyes for one," the teller says bluntly. "And the stories I have heard throughout Middle Earth."

"And that is all they are – stories," Thorin replies harshly. He turns his back to the man and starts walking down the rows of tables. "Come on." The rest of the company follows Thorin's lead and takes up a table in the middle of the hall where the least amount of people were present. A barmaid follows behind them ready to hear what they would like to drink. Only Bilbo and Gandalf remain behind with the mysterious man.

"I do not believe I heard your name, friend," says Gandalf. The wizard is quite curious about this man. While he did so covertly, he continues to stare at the man hoping to find the gap in his mind and remember where he had met the man before.

"My name is Tirian," says the man with relative ease and a smile.

"Please forgive our friends," says Gandalf. "They have suffered much hardship and they don't always realize when they throw the weight of it on others."

"It is alright, my friend," he replies kindly. "I am quite used to bearing the burdens of others."

"I for one," stutters Bilbo unexpectedly, "would like to hear the story."

Gandalf smiles warmly at the hobbit, for it was people like him that kept the darkness from his heart with nothing more than small kindnesses. Tirian grins keenly, but suddenly stands up.

"Then let us move to towards the fire, for surely a tale of such grandeur can be told no place else," he says.

Gandalf, Bilbo and Tirian move to the bench beside the fire, only a table away from Thorin and his rowdy crew. Bilbo sat facing the fire until Gandalf and Tirian take the bench on the table opposite him. Bilbo finally allows his curiosity to have the better of him and ask his first question.

"So the ranger is of the Imelkane clan? I read about them. They were clan of people trained by a Mirkwood elf near the end of the Second Age," Bilbo asks.

"Oh, yes! Best of the best! Until those foul creatures overran his home and the poor lad was there when it all happened," the man says gruffly.

Gandalf notices Thorin tense behind Bilbo. Despite that Thorin doesn't believe that the ranger was of Imelkane, the story of their people remind him a little too much of home.

"How did he survive?" asks Bilbo.

A scowl crosses Tirian's face and his voice becomes hard, "Not quite sure, but I think it has something to do with his mother. One of the orcs captured her and took her to Gundabad…you can only imagine what they did to her."

The truth of the matter is that Bilbo could imagine the horrors of orcs. Despite having little more than a fauntling when the Fell Winter came it had changed everything. When the wolves and orcs entered the Shire after overpowering the rangers, they had taken his father from him and his mother had died of a broken heart. He missed them both terribly and could sympathize with the ranger. He missed his mother especially and thought of her with a sad smile, but then brought up the next thing on his mind.

"What about the boy's father?"

"Died when he was a lad I'd suspect," says the storyteller. "Not uncommon amongst the clan of Imelkane, but the boy must have certainly loved his mother. To have followed her to Gundabad…"

"How old was he?" asks Bilbo suddenly.

"Not sure," says Tirian, rubbing the stubble on his chin, "Everywhere I've been I've heard something different. Youngest I heard was eight and the oldest was fourteen."

"Fourteen?" asks Bilbo incredulously.

"At most," he says. "According to rumor he hid himself in the halls of Gundabad for almost a year before the orcs slit his mother's throat."

Bilbo gulps nervously at the thought, but Gandalf eyes the man warily. Now even he doubts the story. How could a human child, Imelkane or not, survive the harsh halls of Gundabad for a year unnoticed? However, the two beside the man aren't the only ones listening, or skeptical.

"The swill! Not only does he insult the good people of Imelkane, but our intelligence as well," grumbles Gloin quietly. There is a silent agreement throughout the company, but they continue to listen to the man as they sip their ale.

"After that he disappeared for a few years before reappearing in the ranks of the Dunedain rangers. He has been serving with them since that time, but a few years ago he left his troupe in search of someone and has been travelling ever since," Tirian says offering swift end to the story for Bilbo.

"Someone?" asks Bilbo.

"I have heard a couple theories," he says not offering much information on the subject.

"What have you heard?" asks Gandalf, feeling on edge.

The man pauses and chooses to stare at the table as he continues. "Once I heard he was looking for his uncle who had once been a ranger some time before the lad was born."

"Wouldn't his uncle have gone looking for him?" asks Bilbo.

"He could have been looking for the lad, but no one has seen the man since the aftermath of Imelkane. He was last seen leading the survivors to the village of Thoth along the northern borders of Mirkwood. No one has seen him since."

There is a moment of silence among the three by the fire, unaware of their distant audience who were hanging onto the words of lore weaver. The dwarves hold their ale close to them and exchanges glances as they listen. They all knew what it meant to lose loved ones without ever really knowing their fate, particularly Thorin and Balin. They were there the day that their loved ones became trapped within the mountain with the dragon. They likely starved if they weren't killed by the dragon fire; among those trapped in the mountain was Thorin's mother. He had last seen her running with a group of their people towards the western gate, but it had closed before she could make it out. They remained trapped in the mountain that had once been their home.

Then there was the Battle of Azanulbizar. Thorin's hands clench tighter over the mug and he suppresses the growl that forms in his throat. Early in the days of engagement he had lost his little brother, Frerin, at the East Gate of Moria. He had found his brother's corpse covered with the dead of the enemy; while he had died a warrior's death Thorin had felt a largely responsible and carried the weight forward. It seems so long ago now, but the sight of the dead is still fresh within his mind. Thror, his grandfather, had been beheaded by the pale orc, Azog the Defiler, and the head was thrown at Thorin's feet. In his rage he had tried to attack the orc head on, but his father held him back in hopes of protecting his son. Thrain tried to lead the charge himself, instead, but he was swallowed up by the battle and never seen from again. That day he lost his grandfather and while Thorin knew and despised the fate that befell his mother, he had no clue as to the fate of his father.

He had been in this town six months prior, following a rumor that his father had been roaming the wilds, but it had been for naught. Now he has a new mission…

"And the other theory…" presses Gandalf.

Thorin actually glances over his shoulder to see the man's eyes narrow on the table grain. He voice suddenly sounds hurt, as if the story he tells is now his own.

"The other theory is that he is trying to hunt down the orc that killed his mother."

Dwalin releases an undignified snort that even the storyteller could hear. Tirian suddenly breaks into a soft smile, happy to deviate from the dark tone the tale had taken.

"Is there something you would like to add, Master Dwarf?" the teller asks.

"Aye. You forgot the part where my fist meets your face," Dwalin growls. The other dwarves start laughing, finding Dwalin's anger at the story well-founded. Bilbo's eyes widen at the empty threat as Gandalf rolls his eyes at the ill mannered dwarf's words. The man, however, continues to smile.

"What part of the tale displeased you, Master Dwarf?"

"Lad," starts Balin, "I travelled to Imelkane when I was, but a lad myself. The people there were kind, never able to turn away from someone in need. While they never got involved in other people's business, they could finish it with swift justice. They never had any darkness in their hearts. When we heard they had fallen under the hands of the orcs we mourned them."

"Despite their ties to elves?" Tirian asks calmly.

Dwalin opens his mouth, ready to defend the honor of the dead people, but surprisingly Dori speaks up. "Dwarves once had relations with elves as well. We learned our lesson," he says solemnly. The rest of the dwarves were thankful for the intervention, but cannot stop their faces from scrunching up in disgust at the mention of the elves.

"I wish I could say the same for the people of Imelkane," says the man.

This peaks Thorin's interest, "What do you mean?"

Tirian's smile disappears into a slight frown, "After the elves failed to help the dwarves of Erebor, the people of Imelkane thinned their relations with the Greenwood. Less trade, less travelling between the realms, and less…communication. It is because of these reasons the Elvenking left them to suffer at the hands of the orcs."

"The elves left them to die?" asks Bilbo incredulously.

"Why am I not surprised?" says Oin. "You can't trust those pointed-eared, tree shaggers."

There is a murmur of agreement amongst the company. Since they had placed their undivided attention on the storyteller they had not seen the people near the front of the tavern start filing out of the structure. Even the few patrons in the back of the establishment manage to pass the dwarves unnoticed. The commotion outside had been completely overlooked by the dwarves so that they could banter against the storyteller. Even Bilbo has been caught up in the argument; only Gandalf notices.

"That aside, your story is ridiculous," states Dwalin firmly. "First you say he survived for almost a year as a boy in Gundabad – How? And then you insult the warriors of Imelkane's honor and bravery by saying one of their own has become consumed with something as petty as revenge. I do not believe you."

Small cheers erupt from the company, but they quiet when the man's smile grows. There is nothing more insulting to a storyteller than to not believe his tale, but this man seems to care not.

"If it is answers to the tale you wish for, Master Dwarf, you should ask the chief character," he says raising his hand and pointing at the bustling group of people standing around the door as they part for the ranger. "He just walked in."


	2. What it's Worth

**Thank you everyone for the kind words and for following my story. I have read a lot of these Thorin/OC stories, but this story had been in my head since the Desolation of Smaug and I thought I should put it up here. Tell me what you think! I love constructive criticism! Or love! Or both!**

* * *

I ride into Bree from the southernmost road, planning to reunite the little girl and her mother as soon as possible; hopefully she would still be waiting at the Hog's Breath tavern so that I wouldn't have to hunt her down. The little girl, not even six seasons, sits in front of me as my horse walks past the gatekeeper. I watch the little brunette girl bounce up and down in the saddle to the motion of my horse, trying to release some of the excitement at returning home. It is slightly annoying, but what am I going to do? Yell at her to stop? As the gate rises I spy an old man in the tollbooth who looks at me miraculously and give him a brief nod in hopes that it shows my gratitude in allowing me to pass. A young boy came out somewhere from behind the booth and bolts past us down the road. He will most likely tell the town I have returned with the little girl. Good – it will make finding the girl's mother easier.

I continue plodding down the road at my own pace, the girl squirming anxiously in the saddle. She isn't comfortable with my presence, but after saving her from the ghouls she trusts me enough not to try and run for it. I may have saved her, but I am well aware of the fact that she wouldn't be comfortable until she was in her mother's arms. I know full well how keen that need is as a child. My chest tightens considerably as I begin to navigate through the thin patch of houses and shops necessary to reach the Hog's Breath.

"Look, Master Ranger, there it is!" she yells excitedly.

Sure enough against the lights from the tavern I can see that a large group of people have already gathered outside the inn. That boy was quite quick in delivering his message. They must have seen us coming because like a wave they rush towards us. I continue forward into the fray of people that cluster around me, hoping that the people had good enough sense to get out of the way of my horse. The people of Bree chatter at me excitedly, but I don't pay attention as I scan the crowd for two particular faces: the girl's mother and the Storyteller. The child's mother is relatively easy to find considering the girl does the work for me.

"Mama!"

I look in the same direction of the child to see the woman holding down a choking sob and tears of joy spilling from her eyes. Her brother is once again beside her watching me with awe in his eyes; I'm sure he thought us both dead. As thankful as I'm sure the woman is – I know she only has eyes for her little girl. Moving my horse slightly to part the remaining crowd between myself and the woman there is suddenly silence. I place my hands over the girl's waist and hand her over to her uncle. He takes her gently to place her in a firm hug between himself and her mother. Once in her arms the first thing the mother does is kiss her daughter on the cheek before wrapping her securely in her arms. As she holds her I can see the mother's lips moving and despite that I cannot hear her I have a very good idea what she is saying. Slowly the crowd begins to return to its original clamor, but I am still lost within my own thoughts.

 _Welcome home, Tahna. I'm glad you made it back safely._

My mother's words from my own childhood float back into my mind. Every day I would return home from a day of lessons or play, these were the words she would offer me. I shudder at the memory not in fear or disgust, but with how cold and hallow the words left me. 'My mother is dead,' I remind myself. That didn't stop my heart from sinking like a stone at the thought of her.

My mother, Nirassi, had never been overly affectionate; I personally remember her being kind and gentle, but essentially cold. She loved our small family, I know she did, but to protect herself from loss she would always be distant. One of my best memories regarding this matter was the day I had fallen out of the tree near the Lord's Palace. I had wanted to see if the blood oranges really had blood in them when I fell out of the tree and broke my arm. I returned home nursing the arm and crying, but my mother had calmly taken my hand and escorted me to the healer. I recall her giving directions on how to get to the healer's house as we walked, should I have need of it again, through tear stained eyes. Once there she left me and told me to return home after the healer had reset the bone. When the healer first heard where my mother had gone he had thought her cold and heartless for leaving her daughter behind, but when I did as she bid and returned home she took my face and placed a lingering kiss on my forehead. And like all days she told me the same thing:

"Welcome home, Tahna. I'm glad you made it back safely."

It was her way. She always wanted me to be strong and to learn so that I could take care of myself and in essence protect one of the few things my mother loved. Nirassi had not always been this way, but the stark contrast of the change caused many to think her cruel. The truth was that the people who thought this never truly knew my mother. As a young woman, Nirassi lost her father and two of her brothers to orc raids. She grew distant without them in her life and the rest of her kin were unsure how to handle the indifferent nature my mother developed. She mostly spoke to her only other brother, my uncle, Neir. Even then their conversations were brief and infrequent. One day there was an attack on the main gate and a couple orcs slipped through the defenses, entering the main square of Imelkane. That day was the first time my mother had ever held a sword, and she later told me in made her comfortably numb. She may have managed to kill only one orc, but it was enough to give her some satisfaction for the losses she suffered. After the battle itself my mother returned to her old ways before the death of her father and brothers, but certainly more cold and distant.

Not long after the attack Nirassi approached the strongest warrior in the city, Kalar, and asked him to marry her. I heard from my uncle that the look on his face that day was infamous and the butt of many jokes. Nirassi had been sought after once she came of age and had many suitors. She is the one who gave me my golden eyes, but she had hair like sunshine. Like many women of Imelkane she carried a fair complexion and a borderline delicate bone structure; however, the way she carried herself, it was equal to that of any male warrior.

Naturally, my father accepted. He hadn't been one of the original suitors for he had been working diligently with our sovereign Lord to push back the mounting orc force in Gundabad. However, that didn't mean he didn't admire my mother; in truth he was quite smitten with my distant, sword-wielding mother. Slowly my father came to love the woman my mother had become in her short nineteen years, but my father said it took her much longer to fall in love with him. She had chosen Kalar because he was strong and wouldn't die on her so easily, but I know that it was only in the beginning. My mother was never very romantic towards my father, but I knew she loved him because every time she saw him she would say:

"Welcome home, Kalar. I'm glad you made it back safely."

Those words were her way of expressing love for us in our little family. She even said it to uncle once or twice. That's why she said it to us every day and the only reason she waited to say it until we were home is because it would save her from pain if the day came where we didn't return home.

"Come now, Ranger! Have you slain the beasts or haven't you?"

A man had begun to shout so loud I could hear him over my own thoughts. I look at the tall stranger standing on the left side of my horse. He stands at about six foot and his wild black hair frames his face and seemingly makes him bigger than he really is. He is looking up at me with dark eyes gleaming with mirth and his stubbly jaw is raised in a smile.

"Did you defeat the ghouls?"

I need no hint from his one track mind to know he is rather young despite his mature appearance. However, at the mention of the ghouls I look back at the brown sack resting on my horses haunches. My horse's training is the only thing that keeps her from kicking the sack off her back. My horse, Wildwind, knows that the bag contains great evil and while I know she is uncomfortable, she knows not to buck and whine. It takes a great deal of trust from the Rohanian mare to allow such evil to be placed on her back and not react; it is an honor I do not take lightly. I release her of her burden, and throw the bag at the feet of the man beside me. He manages to catch the bag, but only now notices the dark, black stains that coat most of the material. Several other men join him and crowd around to discover what is in the bag. Upon opening it the man turns a slightly pale color as well as some of the others who lean in and try to sneak a peek.

"He did it," he whispers at first and then again more loudly. "He did it! The ghouls are slain!"

With my news now delivered I trudge forward yet again past the townspeople to stable Wildwind. The cheers follow me into the small wooden stable where I dismount. The calls are kind and prideful, but amongst them I can hear the dull whispers of suspicion. How did the ranger do it they wonder? I smirk underneath my mask as laugh at them silently; they will never know. As I tuck Wildwind away I note that there are now several ponies stabled here as well. They had not been here when I left the night before and I begin to wonder if there is a Horse Lord spending the night here.

A rather spirited pony in the stall next door tries to take a playful nip at my horse, but after the long hard ride Wildwind is hardly in the mood. She thrashes and whinnies angrily at the pony, but after a few strokes of my hand and full bag of oats she manages to calm down. I remove her black saddle and place it with the others near the doorway. Before leaving it alone though, I run my hand over the handcrafted leather and think fondly of the man who gave me such a wonderful horse. He had been a Horse Lord who had set up along the Mering Stream; of course it was foolish to set up shop that close to Mordor, but to this day he claims that the grasses there make for faster horses. As one would expect he had problems with shadow cats, which are common along Ered Nimrais mountain range, before my arrival. Needless to say I was successful in my…extermination; and Wildwind had been my payment. As all Rohanian mares, Wildwind is smart, loyal, and faster than most horses in Middle Earth. She has followed me no matter the danger and for this I consider her one of my closest friends.

I leave and head back towards the tavern. There are people still loitering near the entrance and they turn to smile at me. It's a good thing I have my mask on or else I would have killed the mood. There is a scowl currently etched on my face, but no one can tell. Four children died before I came and while I could understand that these people were relishing in the sudden relief I cannot see the reason for such unhindered joy. The only one who seems relevant for such emotions is the mother who just received her daughter from the jaws of death. I don't understand these people…

I continue to the doorway where people for the most part clear the way for me, except one. The dark haired man, with whom I had left the bag, suddenly charges forward in front of me with the bag and into the tavern. As I enter behind him I can hear:

"I count seven! He killed seven Ettenmoor ghouls!"

The further I travel, the louder and the more excited whispers behind me become. Then more cheers assault me from the main room of the tavern. It could have been from having a long day, but I am bitter about the joy these people felt.

"Take them out, Klain," says one man.

I finally make it through the entrance hall and out of the crowd to stand near the bar counter. I'm now completely exposed to the room, but no one is really looking at me though. Klain began to remove the ghoul heads from the bag and place them neatly on the counter. The sun had set many hours ago now so the ghouls must be awake again.

A woman's scream confirms my thoughts. Even though the head of the ghouls had been removed long enough to have bled out by now some of their black blood still manages to smear on the finished wood. I had neatly sewn the mouths shut with black leather strips through the lips which held a large stick in between them. Some of the shifting lips managed to reveal the thin, pale white teeth that were imbedded in the sticks I had placed in their jaws as a precaution. Ghouls could regenerate if they managed to bite into living flesh so I had to be careful.

The large opulent eyes of the ghouls shift from face to face in the tavern until they see me. They try rotating what is left of their necks and try to…hiss at me I think. Their movements were very stiff and slow compared to the creatures I had faced earlier today. Their moist, pale skin is already beginning to fall off from lack of consuming living flesh the night before. It is coming off in chunks and landing loudly on the counter. Even their thin and wispy strands of dampened hair were coming out. So long as no one stuck their fingers in their mouths all should be well.

"By the blessed Valar," says the barkeep.

I look behind him to see the little boy from before and both of his sisters clutched tightly in the arms of their mother, who is eyeing the heads warily. The boy looks up at me in awe and I send up a silent prayer to the Valar that he would never become like me. The path I have chosen I would wish upon no creature in this world. There is no rest and no peace in it…

I suddenly feel as though I am being watched and break my eye contact with the boy to scan across the room. However, I am met with many faces of overzealous men.

"Drinks are on the house," the barkeep says suddenly.

The men begin pushing forward, trying to hand me the first drink. Oh how I would love to be drunk right now! However, I am quite uncomfortable knowing that there are eyes on me so I try to find a way out of it by signing quickly to the barkeep. Even as I do this there are still eyes burning into me.

"What's he say?" someone asks.

"He says we need to burn the heads before they regain their power," the boy says from the corner of the room.

"Why didn't you say so before? I can handle this," says Klain.

He collects the heads and makes his way to the hearth. Once the path he makes clears I easily find the eyes that have been watching me, for he made no attempt to hide his stares. Or the rest of them for that matter; have they all been staring at me? There are thirteen dwarves in the middle of the room watching me curiously. One table away from them sits a halfling, a vagabond, and the Storyteller. In ordinary circumstances I would have thought that a large number of dwarves travelling together vary peculiar, but I overlook them as I focus in on the Storyteller. As I glare at him his shit-eating grin grows and I can tell that he is very pleased with himself. I am so tempted to hit him…hard.

"Durin's beard!" someone whispers.

My eyes shift back to the company of dwarves. I quickly rake over faces and expressions that vary from admiration to utter confusion. The only exception is the dwarf that is standing; I hold his gaze the longest. His eyes appear ocean deep and older than the rest of him would lead you to believe. He is tall for a dwarf, especially one from the Blue Mountains, which is apparent from their attire. He is dark, not so much in the sense of his black mane and beard, but the weight with which he carries. As if a shadow has nestled itself on his broad shoulders and even now it weighs him down. Much like his companions he seems surprised by my appearance, but I am equally puzzled with his. He looks like he could be a blacksmith, but he certainly doesn't carry himself like one. His posture is straight and whether or not he knows it; his chest is puffed out already trying to make himself bigger than he already is. What would a dwarven blacksmith need with twelve other dwarves? It's like he has his own miniature army…no jesting intended.

However, before I could even attempt to communicate with the dwarves my attention is taken by Klain once more. This man is starting to grate on my nerves…

"The deed is done," he says. Then a final round of rousing cheers is made with a small amount of applause. "Let's celebrate!"

With those words the tavern suddenly comes alive with music and I lose whatever line of sight I have with the dwarf. I quickly find myself surrounded by men and women alike as they fill their hands with tankards or dance partners, or both. I turn away from it all to face the little boy again.

"He says that he is tired and would like to retire," says the boy jovially.

"Of course," says the barkeep. "We will never be able to repay you for your kindness or the peace of mind you have brought us."

"He says, 'A friendly place to stay in Bree if I'm ever passing through would be payment enough'," the boy corresponds.

"Sounds fair enough to me," says the man with a smile. His smile creates one of my own, even if he can't see it. His smile is gentle and genuine, reminding me of one of my mother's smiles when she was proud of me. I nod my head to the barkeep before heading to the darker part of the tavern where the stairs lead to my quarters for the night.

Before I can even put my foot on the first step I can feel eyes on my back once more and I turn. My gaze meets the same blacksmith who now stands in front of the vagabond. The vagabond also watches me, but with nowhere near the same intensity as the dwarf. In that moment I have a sudden realization. I had been so fixated on the dwarf's features that I had overlooked very important details. Blacksmiths don't wear rings like that or have tunic made of such fine materials, but I realize my worst offense is that I had overlooked his beads. The beads in the dwarf's hair were of the line of Durin, I recognize them from the dwarvish custom we had adopted in Imelkane; our Lord had worn similar beads for his own house. That means the dwarf I am staring at right now is none other than Thorin Oakenshield. It could have been Thrain, but the age difference is too severe and last I checked Thrain was missing an eye. I don't know how I missed it before (probably being lost in blue eyes wasn't helpful), but then again who would expect a dwarvish prince to be travelling through a backwater place like this? Maybe he wanted it that way…

Still holding eye contact, I make it a point to bow my head in his direction as acknowledgement of his status. My mother had taught me proper etiquette when addressing someone of higher rank, even across a crowded room. Usually the only person we had to worry about was our sovereign Lord, but even now I am prepared for a King-in-exile. The proper way to do it would be for me to approach and bow, however, I doubt that the prince is looking for such attention. His head bows back to me to address the acknowledgement I have given him. I pause a moment and wonder if he would help me on my quest, but I turn the thought away. I doubt that he would want any part of my vendetta; no one else should have to suffer with me.

The prince must have come along the Great East Road if he came directly from the Blue Mountains. To leave his people behind…he must also be on a great undertaking of sorts – most likely something bigger and more important than what I have in mind. I would not disturb them. I travel up the stairs with the eyes following my back. It is only moments before I reach the solace and isolation of my room. I swiftly lock the door and finally feel as though I can relax.

I first remove my gauntlets and my vambraces, placing them in the corner for cleaning later. I remove my water flask and fill a shallow bowl provided by the inn in hopes of cleaning my blade. I sit cross legged with my back to the bed on the floor and facing the door. I remove my blade, still stained with the blood of the ghouls and begin to wipe it down. My blade was forged in Minas Tirith by a man whose name escapes me and while it is not my "true" blade it serves me well enough. I look over at the night table where my true blades sleep, but once again they were unnecessary in my duties as a ranger.

Despite that I will not pry or intervene, I cannot help but wonder as to why Oakenshield would be here. When nothing comes to mind I wonder more about the dwarf behind the blue eyes; not all of the tales I had heard about him were true, were they? About his humility and his strength as he carried his people through the wilds of Dunland, slaving away in the forges of men. Surely the Battle of Azanulbizar had been exaggerated as well. Then again the only talk in the Blue Mountains was of the activity in Thorin's Halls. I sigh behind my face guard and then laugh. I am thinking about this far more than I should, but maybe my cousin is right and I just have a thing for men with blue eyes.

* * *

"What's the matter, Master Dwarf? Cat got your tongue?" says the Storyteller smugly.

The dwarves ignore the comment too focused on the ranger that had just breezed through the tavern. To say they were surprised would be an understatement.

"One of Imelkane," breathes Bofur. "I never thought I would see one."

"It's a good sign," Oin states.

"Did you get a good look at his armor?" asks Kili excitedly.

"It's not like anything I've ever seen," responds Fili with equal excitement. "The metal looks as strong as a blade, but it's darker than any alloy I have ever seen."

"He has the Golden Eyes," Dwalin concurs sourly. That is as close to a 'You were right' the Storyteller would ever receive from the gruff dwarf.

The enthused yet hushed remarks from the group are now sheltered by the merriment of the people within the tavern. Thorin's eyes never left where the ranger disappeared to, but Gandalf pulls him back from his thoughts.

"What are you thinking, Thorin Oakenshield?" the wizard asks.

He looks at the wizard, rather sizing him up. Thorin would have been a fool if he ever thought the wizard weak. While not many have seen the true power of an Ishtar, their temperament is not something to be tested. The sorcerer had sought both him and his father for this venture to reclaim their homeland, so there was undoubtedly something greater at work for the attention of Maiar to be involved. Naturally Gandalf is a man who demands respect; however, when he does something like bring a halfling into the fold, Thorin questions the man's judgment. Bringing Bilbo Baggins as the company's burglar is easily one of the worst ideas the wizard could have possibly had. The halfling isn't a fighter and seems like a borderline coward; he would be nothing, but a burden.

He looks back to the shadowed staircase. The people of Imelkane had been gems amongst the Realm of Men, the good people of the North. While Thorin had never been to Imelkane he can still recall meeting many people of the infamous race in the city of Dale. While he had respect for the people in Dale, everyone knew there had never been a greater force in the North than the golden-eyed men of Imelkane.

It is said that the people of Imelkane were originally established by en elf who taught them in the ways of having keen eyes and being light on their feet. They were also trained in archery and meant to be a stealthy force. Then at one point they saved a young dwarf prince, Thror, from the clutches of orcs. Afterward they began relations with dwarves and were taught the strength of armed combat. They also learned of the loyalty that dwarves carried like pride and with it they became a brutal force. When they visited with the men and women of Dale and Esgaroth they learned about the vast world beyond their lands. They learned to be self-sustaining and were quick learners in the ways of politics and warfare. They became an intelligent force. However, it was something amongst their own people that made them one of the most revered races in Middle Earth. They developed a passion and drive to defend anyone weaker than them; if not for this they would have easily been one of the most feared races in Middle Earth, but it earned them the trust of the free people. They were taught the languages of their allies; with the exception of the dwarves. The secretive nature of the dwarves didn't allow the people of Imelkane to use Iglishmek, but they invented a middle ground creating Nezkish instead; a good thing too seeing as how they shared their knowledge with everyone.

Imelkane developed a unique culture by adapting many different cultures to their own, in hopes of honoring their allies and friends; it also made it much easier for them to connect with all races of Middle Earth. They were a righteous force. Thorin knew all too well that even with all of those virtues it didn't save them from death or the destruction of their people.

"I want him to join the company," says Thorin bluntly. He almost said it louder to speak over the noise of the bustling tavern, but then thought better of it. It didn't matter though, because everyone had heard him. The eyes of both Gandalf and the Storyteller widen in surprise at the declaration. Behind Thorin the rest of the dwarves murmur in agreement with their leader's choice. A child of Imelkane would certainly be an asset, particularly one well versed enough in the dangers of Middle Earth to take on seven Ettenmoor ghouls.

"I cannot condone this," says Gandalf darkly. Thorin finds himself meeting the wizard in the eye, angry as a summer storm.

"I allowed you to force your burglar upon us, but I am the leader of this company and I may ask whomever I see fit to join us," Thorin rumbles. No one notices how Bilbo silently sighs at the disparaging remark.

"It is a decision you will come to regret," says Gandalf rather menacingly. Thorin's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"Why are you so adamant about keeping him from the company?"

Gandalf took a moment to chose his words carefully, "Because I do not know him and there is something…wrong with him. Heed my words, Thorin Oakenshield, that ranger cannot be trusted with your quest."

Gandalf left them then, heading over to where a little girl sat, speaking animatedly. The group of people around her is hanging on her every word. It would seem that she was the girl saved by the ranger and she was spinning her tale for the people to hear. With the wizard away Thorin takes another look at where he had last seen the ranger, a hand cupping his chin subconsciously. Balin approaches Thorin while looking at the dark stairway as well.

"I take it as a good sign," says Balin. "I never thought I would see one of their people again, yet here he is clear as day, and just as strong as his forefathers. And just selfless as the Dunedain rangers, if my eyes did not deceive me."

Thorin nods his head. He had seen him sign Nezkish to the little boy behind the counter. He had not asked for payment and there was certainly no guarantee that the ranger would ever return to collect the friendly gesture. He did not celebrate among the locals this night, and true to Imelkane fashion, he was likely mourning those that had suffered at the hands of the ghouls. It was their way.

The ranger had seen Thorin, recognized him even, but quickly realized the position the company was in and left in silence. Thorin had been tense when the ranger nodded his head, but after returning a nod of his own he left. Thorin lets out a disgruntled snort. How could Gandalf judge someone so quickly?

Out of the corner of his eye Thorin looks down at the hobbit sitting beside where he stood. The hobbit looks around the place curiously, although obviously trying to avoid appearing nosy. He sipped on a small ale as he looked between the Storyteller and fire, awaiting a proper moment to strike up conversation once more. Thorin had also been quick to judge the halfling, but Thorin had more to go on than Gandalf. He is asking for an experienced warrior with excellent credentials for what he would be asked of on this quest. The hobbit is another matter. He certainly feels more justified in his assumptions even though he acknowledges that they are both hypocrites; not that he would ever say that out loud. Thorin turns away from the halfling to face Balin.

"Grab your parcel and some parchment. I will examine the metal of this ranger myself."


	3. The Metal of a Man

**Bold is Nezkish signing**

* * *

Once my blade is clean I return it to its sheath. I leave the blade by the door as I go to retrieve my satchel from a chair in the corner of the room. I remove a white candle and my carving knife from behind the armor plating on my shin. On the candle I carve in the names of the four children that were murdered prior to my arrival: Liliana, Chalin, Tuss, and Cahila. I had collected their names from the whispers of the gossips around town. It made me sad to know those children couldn't be buried by their parents, but at the very least I could give them their last rights.

I place the candle in a wash bowl from the vanity and light it. After finding a perch in front of my bed, I set down the bowl. I sit between the bowl and my bed where I cross my legs and brace my forearms on my legs. After a moment looking into the small flame I bow my head in prayer. I recite the words I learned during my childhood in hopes that these small children would make it to the Halls of Waiting to be lead to peaceful rest by their kin. This is a ritual we had taken from the elves – their ritual of mourning. The elves saved this ritual for someone revered, but for my people we used it to honor people we didn't have the privilege of knowing in life. The elves may use candles to show their grief, but the people of Imelkane, myself included, are human. When it comes to the people we love most we can't just light candles…

A soft knock on my door draws me from my reverie. Slowly and cautiously I pull myself out of my sitting position and towards the door. My hand hovers at my back near where I have hidden one of my daggers. I pause in opening the door and the knock sounds again. In the silence following I can hear two different people murmuring outside my door in a language I do not understand. My unyielding curiosity allows me to open the door while I gently grasp the dagger at my back. Once I see what's outside my door I find myself grateful for the silencer in my mask.

"By the Valar…" I whisper aloud.

Outside the door are Thorin Oakenshield and one of the men from his company. The second dwarf is much older than Thorin, but I am mostly basing this fact on his white beard. He has warm brown eyes which are made darker by the stark contrast of his beard. I can't see any obvious beading, but somehow I don't think their related (at least not directly). They both watch me now and I can see kindness in the older ones eyes that makes me feel guilty. I remove my hand from my dagger and take a better look at them before standing aside to allow them entrance into the room. Both of them enter, but stand near the entrance until after I shut the door silently. I use my hand to gesture towards the only two chairs in the room while I resume my position on the floor. I do not give my trust out easily, but I do trust in the nature of dwarves; if want you dead, they make it known.

It takes me a moment to remember where I left off in my prayers. I close my eyes and resume, but I have a feeling that beyond my eyelids the dwarves are looking over the room and me. I wait in hopes that they will state their business. However, after a few minutes of silence I start signing instead, my impatience getting the better of me.

 **How can I help you, my lord?**

"We can wait until you are finished, laddie," says the new dwarf gently.

 **I must wait for the candle to burn itself out and that shall take a while. You, however, do not seem to have the luxury of time. Please, speak.**

"How did you recognize me? I doubt that you have ever seen me before," Thorin asks rather demandingly.

 **You do not give yourself enough credit, my lord. You look very different amongst your kin, but what really gave you away were your warrior beads. My clan adopted the beading traditions of your people and while the line of Durin hasn't visited Imelkane since my birth it is how we were trained to recognize you.**

"All true, lad," says the other dwarf as to assure Thorin. "However, that begs the question. Where are your beads, laddie? I would imagine that you are old enough to have earned them by now."

If only they knew the truth…I'm actually still a child by both their people's standards and mine. I could feel the muscles in my hands clench before I could sign again.

 **As I said we follow your traditions. Both of my parents died before I could be given my beads.**

A moment of silence passes between the dwarves before the older one steps up. "Forgive me, lad. My eagerness to meet you seems to have gotten the better of me. My name is Balin, at your service." A small smile forms behind my mask.

 **Kalar, at yours.**

I have been using my father's name since I joined the rangers. The last person to use my real name had been my uncle after he "cast me out." I remember the bitter conversation that ended with discord, but even now I do not hate my uncle. I don't think he hates me either, but I have chosen a path he cannot agree with so we went our separate ways.

"I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries, lad, but we ran into a man downstairs who told us of your tale and I have a few questions-"

My eyes narrow at the door with the mention of the Storyteller. I had originally hoped to interrogate him like I had once before in Gondor, not that it had been much use at the time. However, my intent to find him had been overridden by my own exhaustion and my desire to escape the patrons downstairs. When my gaze returns to Balin I reassure him.

 **Go ahead.**

"How old were you when the orcs attacked Imelkane?" Thorin asks surprisingly gentle.

 **Nine.**

I stare into the flame of the candle as it wavers. The orange cone reminds me of the large centennial tower in Imelkane. It had been white, much like the candle itself – and it too had burned. It had been the tallest building in the city and it was easy to identify as the city fell into ashes.

"How could a child survive such slaughter?" asks Thorin jarringly. I can feel my eyebrow quirk upward. Is he sick or something? With how quickly he goes from being kind to angry, one might think him mad.

 **My father saved me.**

I found myself actually looking the pair of dwarves in the eye now. Here I had thought that they were only curious, but these questions are becoming personal. Everything I said is not meant to be shared, but I have given the dwarves the benefit of doubt. I find myself blaming the Storyteller. Of all the stories he could have told them and he gave them my convoluted origin story. How annoying…

"Piece of shit," I grumble into my mask. The dwarves continue to stare sorrowfully at me, giving no indication that I have even spoken.

 **He's dead before you ask.** I hope my eyes and body language can convey how pissed off these questions are making me.

"Apologies, laddie," says Balin. "We didn't mean to bring up any bad memories. See we have a proposition for you, but we wanted to ask a few questions before we could present it to you."

Now my interest is peaked. I had assumed earlier that Thorin is on a quest of his own. In that one moment that I had wondered if he would join me in my ventures, I had not once considered if he had thought the same thing of me.

 **Then I understand your caution, master dwarf. Surely any quest led by the sons of Durin in so secretive a manner could not be trusted with just anyone. Which begs the question: Why me?**

"Your people have always been allies with the dwarves of Erebor. Your people even came to our aid after Smaug took the mountain. Once the Main Gate had been sealed many of your people took us in and saved many from the poisonous fumes of the dragon. Later Imelkane gave us the supplies to help us reclaim Moria," says Balin. "You have always been good people."

"Not all of us, master dwarf," I say aloud. The shining admiration in the old dwarf's eyes tugs at my heart. That guilt that I felt earlier returns in full force. I am far from the best of what my people once had to offer this world. I think of the day the great city fell and I realize that not many of us were that good to begin with.

 **I am honored by your kind words, master dwarf. It saddens me to say that I was born long after the dragon took Erebor, but I do not need to see it's halls to know it was truly a great kingdom. Its people are a testament to everything that mountain stood for.**

"Flattery will do you no favors with us," Thorin growls warningly.

 **Good. That was not my intent and it would do you no favors to surround yourself with people who would think to use such false niceties. My people were as fair with judgment the Valar themselves, which is why we are blessed with golden-eyes. Your people are as strong as the stone from which they were made by Mahal. While losing Erebor has chipped your surface, as a people you remain unyielding and unbroken. Am I wrong?**

At this point Thorin and I are staring at each other very intensely. He seems torn between either being thankful for my words or calling me out again. I realize how much I sound like a flatterer, but it is truly what I thought. I have always admired dwarves. They are made of sturdier stuff than that of men. Maybe my mother's need for strong people in her life had rubbed off, but I truly do think highly of them. My high regard for them has only grown since the fall of Imelkane…the destruction of my race reminds me very much of the sacking of Erebor. The only difference is a dragon. They are still a mighty people despite being brought low and they managed to rise again in the Blue Mountains. I went there once visiting a friend of my father's and it had seemed so peaceful there. However, if the nobles are on a secret quest maybe all is not as well off as it appears…

"Whose names are on the candle, lad?" asks Balin. Thorin also turns to the candle and there is a sort of recognition on his face as he sees words written along the waxy surface.

 **Before I could kill the ghouls they managed to take four children. The last was a babe; barely even two months.**

The candle is midway through its burn, but still the two dwarves have yet to clearly state their purpose. I start signing and therefore miss the look the dwarves share.

 **Listen, I-**

"We are going to Erebor to reclaim our homeland," Thorin says suddenly.

Thorin watches the ranger's eyes widen with disbelief before snapping back into a silent calm. Before another word can leave Thorin's mouth, Balin breaks in.

"We realize how crazy this may sound, lad, but it's the truth. No one has seen Smaug in sixty years and we fear that others may try to take what belongs to our people," Balin speaks gently.

 **I heard that the people of Erebor had settled peacefully in the Blue Mountains. When last I passed through all was well. Is the Lonely Mountain worth risking the peace you have created for your people?**

Thorin can feel Balin's eyes watching him as he forms his reply. The old warrior had asked him a similar question in the hobbit's home, only a day ago. Again, Thorin knew in his heart he could not rest until the dwarves had retaken Erebor once more. It is their home and his people, who have suffered unjustly, deserve that which is rightfully theirs.

"It is," Thorin says.

 **This is a lot of trust for someone you've just met. Clan of Imelkane or not, you do not know me. Why do you think it safe to trust me with such information?**

In truth Thorin isn't completely sure he could trust the ranger. He didn't know much about this man…but somewhere in those eyes Thorin could see a kindred spirit. His home had been destroyed and he could never return. At least Thorin and his company had a home to reclaim; the city of Imelkane had been burnt into ashes. He too had lost his family and born witness to the horrors of the world first hand. While there is no dragon in the life of the ranger there are enough similarities to trust the ranger on this level. There is also something in the way the ranger carries himself; he is weary, but strong. It reminds him of the words the ranger had used; chipped, but not broken. He has kind disposition to the people he meets, but he is also tense like he is ready for anything. If there is anything Thorin is sure about it is that if this man were to join them on the quest he would be a great help.

"You remind me of myself," says Thorin. "I know that you would not abandon us." Thorin knows he sounds genuine, if maybe a little desperate. He misses the ranger's look of surprise, but not the softened look that follows. The ranger rests his hand on the metal concealing the lower portion of his face as he stares into the remaining candlelight with his brows furrowed in thought. It is not a decision easily made and Thorin would have grown apprehensive had he answered quickly. Slowly the ranger comes out of his thoughts and while Thorin would never know what the ranger had been thinking he could recognize the look in his eye.

 **I would be honored to join you and your company. While my own journey was to take me north, I will see your quest through no matter the end. As a ranger it is my duty to help you as Free People of Middle Earth. And as a member of Imelkane it would be my honor to fight beside the dwarves of Erebor once more.**

Thorin fought down the grin that threatened to spread along his face. Another warrior among their ranks did put him at ease; mostly for his nephew's sake. While they are warriors and of age it didn't change the fact that they were kin and he worries. Another set of eyes and ears to watch over his nephews put him more at ease. At first Thorin had remained pessimistic in order to divert his disappointment if the ranger had not been what they were expecting. However, he had met their expectations and now Thorin could agree that finding him must be a good omen.

"Glad to hear it, laddie," says Balin. "I'll start writing up a contract for you." Thorin is not oblivious to his friend's obvious infatuation with the ranger. The people of Imelkane had really left an impression on the old warrior and it is clear that after so much time he had forgotten that they are not without fault. Much like the dwarves the people of Imelkane suffer from a pride that is near sinful. Despite that the man appears to be quite calm for all Thorin knew all it would take one wrong word and he would be set off.

Balin takes up a parchment and a quill on a nearby table, but comes away from it holding something else. "What are these, lad?"

Balin held up two bladeless hilts. At first they seem like unfinished products waiting for a proper blade to be placed. However, upon second inspection there is no way either hilt could hold a steel blade. One hilt is carved in stone with a single aquamarine stone in the top of the pommel. The handle is simple and mimics the line of a leather throng that would be found on a normal sword. The most detailed part of the sword was the cross guard; which forms a downward crescent with flattened ends. The front and back had carved in it the Valar, which stood out of the smooth gray of the stone and take on a light gray color. They sit side by side and appear as smooth as the rest of the polished stone. Thorin can easily recognize Mahal from the axe and hammer in his hands and his wife, Yavanna, stands beside him with a seed in her hands.

In Balin's other hand the second hilt is a weave of black metal. It shines like a blade itself as the weave centers on two points. At the tip of the handle and at the center of the cross guard there are two rubies that are shaped like angry eyes. Each end of the cross guard becomes flat, allowing it to become axe like at the ends. In the center of the cross guard where a blade would be placed the black metal forms spikes.

Neither of these could ever hold a blade, but just by eyeing the ranger's reaction Thorin knew they were more than what they seem. The ranger's hands clench and his chest tightens with bated breath, but he seemed entirely unaware of his own reaction. Worried, Thorin carefully watches Balin out of the corner of his eye while he keeps most of his attention on the ranger. It takes a moment for the ranger to form a response to the question Balin had asked.

 **They were gifts.**

Thorin knows that the short response is the ranger's way of hiding something and he knows that he should bring this secret to light, but the hilts are hardly a threat. They seem more for decoration or sentiment than for fighting. Maybe these blades had been gifts from his parents prior to their deaths. Thorin fondly remembers the wooden swords he had gifted to Fili and Kili when they were still dwarflings. He knew for a fact that they still kept their childhood treasures at home in a chest that they had set aside for their own children to play with one day. However, in the ranger's case the hilts seemed too ornate to be the gift of a child, even for the clan of Imelkane. Finally, Balin senses the ranger's discomfort and leaves the hilts on the end of the bed to return to his parchment at the small table. The moment Balin's hand leaves them so too does the ranger's gaze.

The candle is finally burning out and the ranger continues his prayers with only the scratching of Balin's quill to fill the room. Thorin takes another critical overlook of the ranger, this time of a more physical nature. The ranger has brown hair that is slightly greasy, most likely from travelling, and is only long enough to reach his ears. It is strange seeing a man with such short hair; after Dwalin had shaved his mohawk Thorin had been at a loss for words. The metal mask he wore shields the lower portion of his face, where it starts at the bridge of his nose and extends over his cheeks and under his chin. There is a large, black grate at the center of the mask indicating where he breathes, but Thorin couldn't hear him breathing. There are two leather straps that hold the mask in place, but they appear faded and worn. The black metal is a harsh contrast to the golden eyes above them. His build is average, maybe even bordering closer to small. His height is also fairly average for a human man, which is still many inches taller than Thorin himself. For the most part everything about the man seems average. The only other key detail he could discover is that the lad arms were fairly muscled from years of swordplay and along them are a few scattered scars. Apparently, he has been battle tested.

Suddenly, Thorin feels as though he was being watched. His eyes flick up to the ranger's face, but finds his eyes closed. However, Thorin simply couldn't shake the feeling and could only guess that the ranger is actually watching him from behind his eyelids.

"There we are," says Balin suddenly.

Now the ranger opens his eyes and gold in them is dancing with amusement. It would seem that he had been watching through his eyelids. Kalar looks away from Thorin to take the parchment from Balin. His eyes shift over the contract rapidly.

"It's all there," says Balin proudly, "There will be a few out of pocket expenses, but nothing much to worry about. Usually we include funeral arrangements, but since the attack I figured you might not have a place picked out-"

 **I will be buried in Thoth by my uncle. I would only require transport of my body; if there is one left to send.**

This surprises the pair of dwarves. "Why aren't you with him then?" asks Thorin.

 **We haven't really seen eye to eye since my mother died. The short version of the story is that he kicked me out.**

Balin and Thorin exchange a look. Balin breaks it first by offering a hand to edit the contract. The ranger quickly hands it over so that he may make the adjustments. Thorin's curiosity on the matter remains unsatisfied.

"Why did he leave you?" asks the dark dwarf.

 **More like the other way around I'm afraid. After my mother's death I became quite rebellious and independent. I decided to become a ranger, which my uncle vehemently disagreed with, but I did not heed his wishes. Shortly after becoming a ranger I went to see if I could change his mind. I was sorely mistaken.**

"What did he want for you then?" asks Balin, who is equally as curious as Thorin.

 **He wanted me to stay home with my cousin.**

"What kind of life is that for a man of Imelkane?" Thorin asks incredulously. While the lad is smaller than what Thorin remembers of the clan, he is hardly so frail as to stay at home.

 **He wasn't seeing me as a warrior, but as family.**

"He should know better," says Thorin. He finds himself thinking of his own nephews in the tavern below. Of all the members of the company he worried about them the most. They were not so young as to be coddled, but they have yet to see real battle. There have been skirmishes in the Blue Mountains where they assisted in destroying orc packs, but fighting a dragon is a different boat altogether. When he initially confronted his sister, Dis, with the venture she had regarded it with quiet distaste. She didn't understand that after dedicating so much into building the lives of the dwarves in the Blue Mountains why Thorin would want to leave. She didn't want to lose another family member, least of all the older brother who had been at her side through the worst moments in her life. He is also the dwarf who raised her boys after the death of their father; Kili barely even remembers his father's face. She had been ready to agree hesitantly; however, upon mentioning the addition of her sons to the quest she became adamantly opposed. In the beginning she only saw her boys as boys - not the future of Erebor, so it took a few months before she was finally ready to part from her sons. She did not weep when her sons left for the journey, but she did make Thorin vow to keep them safe.

 **We always want our loved ones to be safe no matter the cost. As it stands you are willing to slay a dragon to ensure the security of a future for your people.**

Thorin supplies a grunt to hide the smirk that had been growing on his face. However, Balin doesn't hide his smile from the ranger. "Alright, lad, we got that fixed," says Balin, "Now we have you set down for a fifteenth of the treasure. We will have to adjust the other lads' contracts, but-"

 **That is unnecessary.**

"Are you unwilling to accept our gold?" Thorin asks accusingly. In the villages of men there are several who had turned away the dwarves after their exile. They believed them to be cheats and would therefore not offer them honest work. Then they accused the dwarves of producing false currency and would refuse their coin at markets. Even their womenfolk are not immune to the suspicions.

 **The gold within that mountain rightfully belongs to the dwarves of Erebor. Your people have greater need of the gold than I. Also…where would I put it all?**

He gestures grandly to the room at his last statement. Despite the mask Thorin can easily see the amusement from the mirth in his eyes.

 **I'm a ranger – I travel where I'm most needed. Reclaiming your mountain won't change that. Could you imagine my horse carrying one fifteenth of what Erebor holds? I'll never get anywhere.**

Balin lets out a loud laugh, which slowly trickles down into chuckling. Even Thorin cracks a smile under his beard at the thought of the ranger's poor horse collapsing under the weight of the gold.

"Very well then we shall give you as much as your horse can carry," says Thorin with finality. The ranger nods, but then continues to sign to them.

 **I also ask that I be welcomed to Erebor should I be passing through. A warm hearth and friendly faces mean more to me than gold.**

This is what made Thorin ask this of Kalar in the first place; his better nature that could only be found in the men of the North. "Anyone who will put their life on the line for me and my kin and asks for only a warm fire and good company shall always be welcome in my halls," Thorin answers. Kalar nods to Thorin in an expression of gratitude. After Balin finally completes the product, he hands it to the ranger for a signature.

His golden eyes scan over the document once more. He pauses momentarily over something before looking down towards his boot. One of his hands slip inside his right boot and removes a small blade. At first Thorin and Balin tense, but the ranger actually brings it to his own hand. A small amount of pressure to his thumb and a scarlet droplet forms on the pad of his thumb. He quickly presses his thumb to the parchment and the red seeps into the paper and spreads. Kalar hands Balin the contract and slides the hidden blade back into its sheath.

 **When do we leave?**

"We leave just after dawn," says Thorin as he makes his way to the door. "Be ready." The ranger nods his head as he follows Balin to the door.

"It's an honor to have you with us, lad," says Balin.

 **The honor is mine.**

The two dwarves turn and descend the stairs to return to the party that is still in full swing. The ranger watches them leave before closing the door.

"What in the name of the Valar do I think I'm doing?" I say out loud as I remove my mask. Hearing my own voice after such a long time is strange to me. I barely recognize my own voice. The candle has finally burnt out so I quickly discard the remains and I begin to pace instead. I had been staring at the signature line and considering backing out. However, Thorin's look of desperation earlier had brought out my instinct to sooth him. I had even felt Thorin relax at my acceptance of the venture and I knew I couldn't let him down. I had used blood instead of my father's name to prevent conflict later when they would discover my true nature.

"This is bigger than anything I've ever dabbled in," I say to myself. "With my luck I'll earn the moniker 'Dragon Slayer.' Wouldn't that be fun for the Storyteller?" With that thought I groan loudly. My goal in life is very simple, but by doing things like this it becomes very complicated. However, I know that I cannot defy my nature as a ranger of the Dunedain – I felt the need to help. Not to mention the blood debt that I still owe…

I quickly strip myself of my chest plate, light mail, and tunic. I stare down at the rags that are compressing my anatomy and groan further. "How do I honestly think I'm going to get away with this? They're dwarves – not dim wits. I am fucked!"

I can feel the beginnings of a most painful headache as I run a hand through my hair as though to sooth it and prevent it from becoming bigger. I remove the rest of my clothes, compression rags included, and collapse on the bed. It only takes seconds to be rendered unconscious.

* * *

At the bottom of the stairs Gandalf surprises Thorin and the look on his face is suspicious.

"What have you done, Thorin Oakenshield?"

"Nothing that concerns you, wizard," Thorin grumbles. He knows not to get on the bad side of a wizard, but Thorin couldn't let the man think that he is the only one who had a say in choosing the members of the company. Thorin is about to pass him by when the wizard grabs him by the arm.

"That ranger is not to be trusted. I do not like the feeling of him. He is covered in magic both light and dark. Something is wrong with him," warns Gandalf.

Thorin could not ignore the wizard's words for his advice and guidance are his purpose for the quest, but at the same time Thorin would not undo the deal he had just made because the wizard is wary. The wizard is only suspicious and Thorin had too much pride to back down now. He removes his arm from Gandalf's grasp, but continues to look him in the eye.

"The ranger has signed the contract and is now my responsibility. While I can appreciate everything that you have done for us – this is my company. I will allow whomever I see fit to join us," Thorin states.

Thorin passes Gandalf to take a pint of ale from Kili. Ignoring the wizard, Thorin is optimistic of his choice. Surely the ranger will be of far more use to the company than the wizard's burglar.

* * *

 **Hi everyone. I just failed an exam and I really need some kind words, even a few are nice. I hope you like the update and we will be on our way soon. If the next chapter isn't up tonight it will be up tomorrow. I especially want to thank HisLordFluffiness and PrincessSerenity96 - your reviews motivated me to hurry up on this chapter and the next one. Thank you for brightening my day! Thank you to everyone else who reviewed as well I hope you like it.**


	4. Unexpected Companions

**Bold is Nezkish signing**

* * *

I woke before the dawn, sitting up in my cot to run my hand through my short hair. My feet find the floor and after propping my elbows on my knees I hold my head in my hands. I have never been an early riser; only creatures of the night should be awake before the dawn. A growl slips past my lips as I stand to walk across the room. I hear my joints groan and pop as I redress. It was relaxing to sleep in nothing for once; the wilds are rarely kind if they manage to catch someone so vulnerable.

I start rewrapping the bandages around my breasts and once again wonder as to how I would hide this from a pack of dwarves. Come to think of it how would I explain my lacking in…other areas as well? Maybe I can say I'm a eunuch? Not likely…I shake my head at my antics and decide to cross that bridge when I got there.

The next items are my trousers and socks. As I slide the breeches on I now notice the large hole in the back of the calf. I pinch the fraying strands of fabric between my fingers, testing their durability.

"Accursed ghouls," I grumble as I slide the breeches off for their repair. From my pack I remove a patch and needle with thread. The black cotton material is easy enough to repair, but I know that soon enough I will need a new pair of breeches. My socks keep my feet warm while I work.

"What am I thinking? Joining a bunch of dwarves to reclaim a mountain wasn't part of the original plan," I ask to no one in particular. I don't know why I think asking again will change the answer, but for some reason asking it one more time seems to make the whole thing more real.

"It doesn't matter now," I consign. "You have already given them your father's name and now you must honor it." If anyone could see me in this moment they would think me mad, but the truth is that I am testing myself. Mostly I am reminding myself that I can still have honor left in my word for what little there is. After so many years of living the way I have I find that is difficult to remember that I can have some semblance of honor…Also it is good to test my voice after not being able to hear myself for weeks.

With my pants repaired I replace them on my person and move towards my dark gray tunic. I then change into my light mail and the leather jerkin from my pack. It is sad that even then I could still look like a girl. I take my belt and loop it through the top of my pants. Both the belt and jerkin are well-worn leather with no designs what so ever. I reattach my dark metal chest plate and finally hide the bits of me that still look feminine. When it comes to my heritage I found myself cursed with my mother's rather delicate form; anything that resembled manly traits I earned from my time with the Dunedain.

Next came the calf high black boots along their respective daggers nestled in their individual sheathes. I then also replace my dark metal shin guards and vambraces – slipping more hidden daggers into sheathes here and there. Then I begrudgingly pick up my mask and look at it with appraising hatred.

"All of our greatest failures are best suffered in the silence of the mind…" I whisper. My uncle's words – not mine. He always has a way with words…

I slip the mask over my face and tighten the clasps at the back of my head and neck. I put a second belt along my waist, one that holds the sheath of my broadsword. On the back of this second belt are specialized clips that hold my bladeless hilts. I pick up my hilts from the end of the bed where Balin had left them the night before. As I hold them in my hands I can feel them pulsating as the magic residing within them slowly reaches the surface. My hands start to tingle as if covered in ants and slowly as the sensation build so does the shakiness of my hand. I suddenly realize that I am holding my breath so I wrap my hands around quickly to attach them to the belt. Despite the relief I feel from releasing the powerful swords I still find my hand lingering on them. It feels wrong that regardless of how uncomfortable I am with wielding this kind of power, I take comfort in the knowledge that it is mine. My head subconsciously lowers in shame as I retrieve my broadsword from its position near the door. I pick up my pack and cloak in the opposite corner of the room. I clip the cloak in the front and raise the hood as I stride out the door.

If there had been any devastation from the party that happened downstairs the night before there is no evidence of it. However, I did see a couple men sleeping off their drink on the tables and one in the corner on the floor. I can only imagine the hangover that poor bastard is nursing…

"Ah! Good morn, ranger."

I look back at the bar to see the owner once more. His eyes show how tired he is, but his smile seems genuinely happy. I try signing, but he waves his hand at me.

"No use that is without my boy here. I may know a few signs, but I'm not that good. I let the lad sleep in this morning after all that excitement. Now my wife is making you some breakfast before you leave so don't even try declining. Wave your hands all you want – I will read it as 'I'd like breakfast very much sir.'"

The man clearly knew of my intentions as a smirk graces his features. He wanders back over to the mugs he had been cleaning, leaving me at the bar. Eating with a mask in public is difficult, which is my I usually ate more travel rations than anything. They are so much easier to slip in when people aren't looking. Despite that I didn't want the breakfast, I sit down at a table and find myself smirking at the man's antics.

"Asshole," I breath into my mask with a smile. Sure enough not even a couple minutes later there is a hot breakfast in front of me. I slowly manage around the mask as people slip in and out of my sight. With the smell of food in the air most of the drunks rise from their slumber and leave the tavern as they nurse their heads. After twenty minutes I manage to finish and now realize this is another problem I will have to face with the dwarves later. This is why I should never agree to travel with people. It only makes problems for me.

After finishing up I head outside to find Wildwind awake in her stall. Despite the long journey we had made the day before she is as eager as I to continue our travels. She leans over the rail towards my hand so that she could nuzzle me. As I pet her silky chestnut coat I take comfort in the fact that at least I won't be alone with the dwarves. I take a moment to refill her hay and water trough to help her gather strength before we take to the road. As Wildwind partakes in her meal I decide to do the same for all the ponies, knowing that so many could only belong to the dwarves staying here. As I make my rounds I count fourteen ponies. Fourteen dwarves…against a dragon?

"We are dead men," I state. As the livestock feeds my hand unconsciously moves towards my lower back. I can feel the cool and smooth surface of the stone hilt. It calms me to know that it will be there to aid me on my journey. I have never faced a dragon before – one of the few creatures I haven't. However, when it comes time to face the beast at least I know I'm not defenseless.

A shrill neigh brings me out of my thoughts and I realize I'm not alone. Whoever entered the stables remains near the front of the shack. I could not sense any malicious intent…in fact I couldn't sense any intent at all. All I can tell is that there is a presence, but the lack of purpose puts me on edge. This prompts me to bluff and pretend that I haven't been taken off guard. I turn around leisurely to find the vagabond I had seen in the tavern last night.

Now that we are alone and not among a sea of people, I can observe him much more thoroughly. His grey robes are old and worn, like a grey stone beaten by the weather of the world. Amongst the robes there is a brown belt which is equally as plain as the fabric around it. The man seems easy to overlook until you see his blue eyes. They seem so old, almost unnaturally ancient; there are only two other people I know who have such eyes. The rest of him is covered in wrinkles and a long grey beard. His hair is the same color as his beard from what I can see sticking out from underneath his hat. I stare him down even as he shifts his stance to lean on his staff. Glancing at the staff it is clearly wooden of some kind and at the very top of the staff there is a white crystal nestled in knot in the wood. Quickly, my eyes flick back to those of the vagrant. His eyes are wandering me cautiously as though I'm some kind of wild animal and I begin to wonder if he is possibly sick in the head.

However, I refuse to let his presence hinder my progress in preparing for the journey ahead. I start by picking up my saddle and attaching it to Wildwind, while keeping the pilgrim in the corner of my eye at all times. I am about to head back to the tavern to purchase some supplies from the barkeep when he finally speaks up.

"My name is Gandalf; Gandalf the Grey. That name wouldn't happen to mean anything to you would it?" he asks.

My first inclination is to shake my head, but I pause. In honesty the name did sound familiar, but it was like hearing an odd name in passing once. Perhaps a fellow ranger mentioned it once as we are travelers and it is quite likely someone had met this vagabond before. However, I can't see who would remember this ratty drifter. Another look at his eyes and I remember that sometimes that's how "they" look. After all isn't that how the Storyteller got around? By appearing to be someone of little importance he would set into motion events bigger than he appears capable of. Surly there is more than just one of those in the world… I decide I must have heard the name somewhere so I give him a slight nod of my head.

"Then you know who I am?" he asks more directly. He must have seen my hesitation in answering him. So this time I shake my head because it is true that I don't know who he is – I just remember his name. I have no idea who the crazy old coot is.

"Good. I would like to think that I have some advantage in this conversation," he says as he takes up perch on a stool near a large quarter stallion. I can feel a frown forming on my face when he uses the word 'advantage.' I don't have anything against the guy. Why does he feel the need to have an advantage while we are just talking? "Feel free to sign. I'm quite fluent in Nezkish."

 **What do you want from me, old man?**

"You are joining the company of Thorin Oakenshield are you not?"

I can feel my blood freeze. Did the man know everything or had he recognized the King-in-Exile as I had? Either way I didn't like how he threw Thorin's name around like that. Anyone could be listening and he is talking about it as if discussing the weather.

 **If I am, what business is it of yours?**

"I too am travelling with Oakenshield in hopes that I may assist him to reclaim his homeland," the man says.

'A vagabond?!' my mind screams. Surely the man has smoked too much pipeweed. Then again, how else did he come by such information? It's not likely he overheard their conversation; after all, it had followed the dwarves up to my room. Then again Thorin had been standing closely to the man in the hall. Maybe he is part of the group…but why?

 **What assistance do you offer Master Oakenshield?**

"For the most part I am a guide, but I also offer him my skills as a wizard and my advice," the man says. "Not that he's been listening to it."

It feels as though a stone has been thrown into the pit of my stomach and I groan behind my mask. One wizard is bad enough – now two? The first one while helpful to my cause and a mentor of sorts, had been absolutely annoying. Looking between the two I can hardly see a resemblance, but hopefully they aren't in league and this one wouldn't make my life miserable.

 **I think I remember you now. They would tell stories of your involvement in the camps of the rangers.**

"Apparently they didn't entertain."

 **I was distracted.**

"With what?"

 **That doesn't concern you.**

"My good fellow – my only concern is for that of the company. I should hate to see harm befall them if this is what you bring with you."

 **I would never harm them. They are good people.**

"You and I both know being 'good' doesn't save anyone from anything."

 **It protects them from me. I will see no harm of mine finds them.**

"I wish I could believe you…"

The wizard does anger me, but for much different reasons than the other one. The other wizard had been unceasingly urging me forward, but this one is trying to pick me apart. I don't appreciate his dissection of my character; he almost sounds demeaning. One of the few comforts I'm ever allowed in front of someone like him is the fact that he knows nothing about me and in this case he only really cares about the company.

"I'm afraid I cannot trust someone who doesn't put the company first."

 **I promised Thorin I would help this company reach the mountain safely and take it back with life if possible. What more can I offer?**

At that the wizard is silent and I can feel the solemnity of the situation sinking in. His eyes continue roam over my form still assessing me. After a moment he heaves a sigh between his dry lips. "I suppose we shall find out – seeing as you have already signed the contract and I have no power to send you away. What is your name?" I can feel my eye twitch slightly at the wizard's obvious distaste for my presence.

 **Kalar.**

"Well, Kalar, while I have no doubt your skills are great be aware that I am watching you," he states as he stands up to his full height, which is as tall as my father, and ambles his way out of the stables.

Great! I have no shortage of my own enemies and by associating with Oakenshield I have undoubtedly gained more; so to add on to that I now have a wizard against me as well. As if the world didn't seem bleak enough already. After a few moments of moaning and groaning in self pity I follow after the wizard to finally collect my supplies from the barkeep. It took a few clumsy tries at hand signals before the man realizes what I am trying to say, but we manage without his son. I pay him with some silver I had "confiscated" from some bandits last week. They are hopefully still rotting in their cells in the North Downs. While I am waiting for the supplies the first of the dwarves made their way downstairs. It is a pair of them – one was flaxen haired with bright blue eyes and a braided mustache. The other is dark-haired with brown eyes and very little facial hair at all. I find this odd as a sparse facial hair is usually a sign of adolescence in dwarves. First wizards and now children…What is Oakenshield thinking?

They both look at me with wide and curious eyes. I don't think they realize that they have stopped in their tracks to blatantly stare at me, but I took the moment to properly appraise them as well. It's fairly obvious that they are young from the way they carried themselves. Despite their warrior beads the look in their eyes made it obvious that they didn't know sorrow pain as most dwarves do. Not making the same mistake again I took a second look at their beads and sure enough there is the mark of Durin. Were these Thorin's sons? If such were the case I feel like I would have at least had some memory of hearing about it. It's not every day a king-in-exile sires children. However, a new question comes to mind: Why are Thorin's heirs on this suicidal quest? Surely Thorin isn't deranged, is he? I think back to our conversation regarding family and warriors, but this…this is different. I rub my aching head at my temple, but it does little to sooth me. If his heirs die Erebor will be for naught; did Thorin not realize this?

"I'm starting to regret this more and more," I breathe. As if my words knocked them out of their thoughts they continue out the door, but watch me until they could see me no more. The barkeep returns with my supplies in my saddle bags when nine more dwarves come down the stairs. The only one I recognize is Balin and when his eyes meet mine he breaks out into a smile.

"Kalar, lad! Come join us before we start off," he calls merrily. I nod my head and throw the saddle bags over my shoulder as I walk along side him. The dwarves settle at the same table from last night. Balin settles me between him and another dwarf with rust colored hair that had been delicately separated into three parts. Despite his relaxed demeanor I could see him eyeing me warily from the corner of his eye. In fact that's how most of them were currently regarding me. I am rather disappointed after the stares of wonderment I received from the other two earlier. I enjoy it when people are curious. It reminds me of the curiosity of children and I enjoy seeing this in others, but I will still keep my distance and protect my secrets.

"Lads, this is Kalar," announces Balin. "He will be joining us for the remainder of the journey."

"So Thorin went through with it did he?" asks a dwarf with a long red beard. "Well then, welcome, son of Imelkane."

 **My thanks.**

"Need any food, lad?" asks a dwarf with an ash colored beard.

 **I have already eaten, but thank you.**

"Balin!" says someone behind us. "Someone has already seen to the ponies."

"Ah!" says Balin. "It seems as though Kalar has beaten you to it."

"Kalar?" asks another voice.

"Right then," says Balin, "Allow me to complete the introductions." He first gestures to the pair across from us. "These are Gloin, Oin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Dori, and Nori." His hand travels around the table and finishes with the dwarf sitting on my right. I catch his eyes and notice that he is sizing me up. I only break the gaze when Blain then gestures behind us. "These two rapscallions are Fili and Kili." I fully turn to see them and discover that they are the two from earlier. Once again they carry a curious look in their eyes and I find myself grateful for their return. "Lads, this is Kalar, a child of Imelkane and a ranger. He shall be joining us."

"Does uncle know about this?" ask Fili cautiously.

"Aye," chuckles Balin. "Thorin is the one who asked him."

An uncle, huh? This makes much more sense than if Thorin was a father. He just…lacks something that would have made him father-like. However, the boys probably would have vehemently disagreed with me. I could see their eyes light up at the mention of their uncle's choice. After my father died I had stayed with the wizard for two years before I found my uncle and once I returned had done his best to keep me in Thoth. He could never replace my father. I know he had done his best to be what I needed, but for me it just wasn't enough.

"You must be a great warrior to be chosen for a quest like this," says Kili.

 **I would like to think so, but I will let you be the judge.**

"Um…" Kili trails off.

"Sorry, lad, but the young princes have yet to complete their learning of Nezkish so I'm afraid we will be translating for them," says Balin.

 **It's alright. I can't imagine two Princes of Erebor sitting still to practice signing twice. Khuzdul is more important and I know that trying to remember all the signs is hardly as fun as sparring with a blade.**

This got a few chuckles out of the group and the princes look around agitatedly.

"What did he say?" asks Fili.

"Nothing to worry about lad," assures a dwarf in a funny hat. Bofur I think his name is…could be Bifur…Suddenly there is breakfast on the table and the dwarves dig in. I realize that dwarves aren't the most polite of creatures, but I honestly think that my horse may have more table manners than some of these dwarves. I think the worst two have to be Gloin and Bifur. I swear I am watching a sinking sand pit with the way they are putting away food. After I become bored I realize that Thorin, another dwarf, and…a hobbit…are coming down the stairs. They make their way over to us and Thorin turns his gaze to me. He nods his head to me, which I return out of courtesy, and then leans over to the dwarf next to him to whisper in his ear. The dwarf next to him is very large and to my surprise has a mostly bald head. The skin revealed there is covered in tattoos. I also notice that one of his ears has a chunk taken out of it. By an animal most likely… I notice his brown eyes fell on me and watch my movements critically. He too gives me a slight nod before taking a seat besides Balin.

"This 'ere is my brother Dwalin," says Balin affectionately. I give his brother a nod of acknowledgement. Thorin takes a seat next to Dwalin and the hobbit sits across from him. The hobbit is also part of this company?! If ever I thought this venture was mad before – it is most certainly confirmed now. My mind sputters as his large curious eyes look at me and quickly looks away bashfully.

 **What's the purpose of the hobbit?**

"Sorry 'bout that lad," says Bofur cheerfully. "This is Master Bilbo Baggins of Bag End. Master Baggins this is Kalar."

The little hobbit becomes a bit more courageous and smiles at me. "At your service."

What a strange little hobbit. I have been through the Shire only twice in my short life, but never would I have thought a hobbit capable of joining a quest like this. They were homebodies for the most part, with an exception now and then. I had heard a family known as Tooks made for Rivendell every once in a while when their Wanderlust is too great. I nod my head to the hobbit as I had for the dwarves, but I shift my head to face Thorin. Hopefully the eyebrow that had made its way to my hairline is enough of a question.

"The halfling is our burglar," grumbles the Erebor heir, "Blame the wizard."

Burglar?

"Why in all of Arda would you need a hobbit burglar?" I ask incredulously.

Naturally no one heard me, but I know my disbelief remains on my face. I couldn't understand the need for burglar let alone the hobbit. A dragon slayer I could understand, but this…And he was chosen by the wizard no less. I close my eyes and pinch the exposed bridge of my nose while I calmly try to breath. This isn't what I expected. I signed up for a company of dwarves and a dragon; not a suspicious wizard or a mad hobbit.

The rest of the meal is spent in silence with the occasional belch or loud clanking of utensils. Despite this silence I am well aware of the fact that eyes watch me from all across the table. The most frequent of the stares came from the Durin princes and the hobbit who are just curious. There are many times they lift their heads as if to ask something, but then the words would die on their lips. The stares that are hardest to stand are the ones coming from Dwalin and the dwarf beside me – Nori. Both of them were sizing me up over the breakfast dishes as if I am a sparring partner. The feeling is hardly appreciated; we have not even begun our journey to the Lonely Mountain and already member of the company had placed me as an opponent of sorts.

I feel tired already. The extremes the dwarves place me in have made my life much more exhausting than it should be. Balin looks at me with admiration and seems to think me something extraordinary, but his brother watches me like a hawk and is waiting for my inevitable downfall to swoop in for the kill. When they figure out I'm girl Dwalin is going to be the one to kick my ass, I know it.

"Finish up," calls Thorin. "It's time to move out."

Despite that I am looking at Thorin the hair on the back of my neck stands up and can feel the air shifting beside me. My ranger training tells me that something is amiss and is using Thorin's words as an opportunity for distraction. I snatch Balin's breakfast knife and stab downward to my right near my lower back without looking. The blade only makes purchase in the wood, but only because flesh has dodged it in time. Nori's hands return to his personal space and are open in front of him as if to show he meant no harm. I know that he had been reaching for the hilts at my back and it made my skin bristle with agitation that he went for those rather than my coin purse. There is no way he could have known how powerful or precious those are to me, but it still makes me uneasy. His face is aghast and clearly he hadn't been expecting me to do that. The others had tensed up and Dwalin had even risen to assist his kin if he had to. With a solid and single pull I remove the knife from the bench and return it to Balin, handle first. I look back at Nori.

 **Best not to let idle hands wander lest you lose them.**

Another silence consumes us before the wizard steps into the tavern. He glances around at the wary stares I receive before clearing his throat. The dwarf near the end of the bench…Ori or Dori, I don't remember, jumps at the gruff noise.

"It's time for us to take our leave," says Gandalf.

Thorin nods and each of us slowly make our way outside. I notice that most of the dwarves with exception of Balin and Dwalin give me a little more room to move than before. They are being cautious now…good for them. Fili and Kili brought out the ponies while Gandalf and I collect our own horses. Once we are mounted and began on the eastern road out of town Kili tries to break the tense and awkward silence.

"Gandalf this is Kalar," he states cheerfully.

"We've met," says Gandalf bitterly. He takes to the front with Thorin and Dwalin. I take up the position near the rear with the princes and the young scholar who had jumped at the table earlier. Balin is right in front of us beside the hobbit, but he turns around to look at me.

"Don't worry, lad. Just give them some time," the old dwarf says optimistically.

"Why not? Time is all we have," I mutter sarcastically. As expected no one around me reacts to my words, but I did notice Gandalf turn in his saddle to purposefully look at me. The dark look in his eye…it's almost as if he heard me. It's impossible, but the way he stares I can't help wondering. After a moment he turns back around and I release a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. This is going to be a long journey…

* * *

 **Alright guys finally on our way. Sorry it took so long, but I wanted and interesting set up for everything else that's going to happen later. Tell me what you think! All creative criticize is welcome and I love reviews. You guys have an awesome day ok!**


	5. Premonition

**Hi everyone! This story has really been writing itself out in my mind and I have been writing so much I actually have the next two parts ready! I just need to do the editing which I decided to go ahead and do for this one to post it early. See, I want to post this one now and have you guys tell me what you think so far in the reviews. You can tell me if you like it or not, I appreciate honesty so long as you tell me why you do or don't like it. I'm not afraid of a little dragon fire! ;)**

 **Anyway special thanks to:**

 **OakenFig3:** **  
** _I absolutely love your review! I wish I could receive ones like this all the time. I hope you enjoy it as the story continues and these next few chapters still leave breadcrumbs of back story and character development, but I really do want to get on with the story. So these next few are for you. Be sure to review again please, I loved it!_

 **QueefCream:**

 _I love our conversations as we read each others stories. I hope your review problem is taken care of ASAP as it is dumb and stupid for people to complain about things like that. This one is also for you, my friend! -_ ** _Everyone give QueefCream's story a look as I find myself thoroughly enjoying it! It's called Lians' Contingency!_**

* * *

" _Papa! Papa!"_

 _I thought that I had seen my father, but discovered it to be a different guard. He watched me curiously, but I released a large sigh and turned around to continue my search. I ran through the courtyard past several other guards, looking for my father. I knew he would be excited to see my first kill. Most boys didn't earn this right until they were eight, but I caught my first rabbit and I was only six. I knew my father would be proud, he always told me I was special and now I could prove it._

 _I heard squeals coming from the ladies as I passed by in search of my father. I'm sure I may have accidentally sprinkled a little blood on one lady's dress in my haste. The dead rabbit in my right hand and the bloody knife in my left must have been quite a sight, but it didn't wipe the smile from my face. It was my first kill – I had proven myself. I didn't even need anyone's help._

 _I was beginning to lose hope of finding my father, after having searched all of the Palace's outer halls, when I met up with my father's best friend, Gaellyn. He had been quite handsome; not nearly as tall as my father and an exotic, darker complexion than most men in the city. He had black hair that looked softer than silk with a slight curl to it that is foreign to the natives of_ _Imelkane. I think his mother had been born in the east, beyond the Grey Mountains in the Withered Heath. His golden eyes, however, showed his father's heritage through and through._

 _From the day I had been born Gaellyn had always been in my life. He was there for my first steps, my first words, and my constant companion whenever he would leave the Palace to visit the outskirts of town. He gave me my first wooden sword, against my father's wishes, in hopes of starting my training early. He never thought my gender was enough of a reason to dissuade me from my goal of becoming a warrior. Gaellyn and my father argued over it often, but my father never really had a good excuse to keep me indoors; especially since my mother encouraged the training. I used to think Gaellyn was so beautiful and kind…but it was only through the eyes of a young and naïve girl._

 _I had been foolish._

" _Gaellyn, look! I have made my first kill!" I yelled excitedly. I held out the rabbit and knife in my hands, unsure of what to do with my prize. He smiled, revealing perfect rows of near white teeth, as he took the rabbit from me and looked it over. He and my father were both part of the Sovereign Lord's guard, which was a surprise to no one. After the passing of Gaellyn's father, Kalar had adopted him in a way. My father was an only child and he yearned for the companionship of a brother, which he often found in Gaellyn. Since they were in training together my father took him under his wing and Gaellyn was more than happy to receive such brotherly attentions._

 _They trained together, fought together, and even fought against each other sometimes. In ways they were so similar, but so different. Even though this relationship made him an uncle of sorts I never really saw him that way. Uncle Neir had been more of an actual uncle, but with Gaellyn it was different. I saw the warrior he was and thought him a good man. He was my confidant, my best friend, and the only person outside my family that I knew I could trust implicitly. I would follow him all over town, even to bars and a brothel, once, in hopes of spending time with him. He had been brave and wonderful, my Gaellyn. I wanted to grow up to be like him. After looking over the rabbit he gave me another smile, one that made the world light up._

" _This is very good, Tahna. I have a feeling that this one will make for a good meal tonight," he said with faint rasp to his voice, "How did you ever manage to catch one this big within the Wall?"_

" _I didn't. I slipped out and caught it with my snare," I said proudly. However, Gaellyn's face fell quickly and so too did mine._

" _How did you get outside the Wall?" he asked, shocked. "Tahna, don't you know that's dangerous?"_

" _It was only for a few hours. I knew I could catch one if I went outside," I tried to explain._

" _Where, Tahna?!" he said more forcefully._

" _Am I in trouble?" I asked gently. I knew we weren't supposed to leave without someone with us, but I had wanted it to be a surprise. He seemed to realize my distress and he shifted into a softer tone._

" _No. Not yet, Tahna. But I need you to show me where you got out, okay? It is important for the safety of everyone inside the Wall."_

 _I nodded my head and took his hand in mine. Despite his battle hardened calluses, the rabbit blood allowed for my smaller hand to slip into his large one easily. I took the quickest path back out of the halls and into the streets of the city. I avoided the main path as there were many people preparing for the Midsummer Festival. So we travelled along the back streets, only running into people with carts of goods for the most part. The summer air was crisp and warm, carrying a breeze that smelled like the gardens of the Palace. With our hands still locked, Gaellyn kept up with my hectic pace as we neared the Wall._

 _The Wall of Imelkane encircled the entire city. The Wall was made when the raids of Gundabad orcs and even a dragon or two would come down from the north. The northern border of the city faced the large Grey Mountains and our southern border is exactly five days ride to the northern border of Mirkwood. While the Wall did keep out the monsters in the mountains it also shielded us from the plains of Rhovanion._

 _It was taller than most of the structures inside the city, with the Palace, the Citadel, and the Centennial Tower having been exceptions. Its design had insured that no one could scale it and for an entire Age it had been so. Large, smooth sheets of dark metal line the exterior of the Wall so none could climb them. At certain points the back part of the Wall was hallowed out so that large furnaces could heat the dark metal exterior and burn whoever tried to touch it. It was here that I found a hole small enough to slip through and knowing the guard rotation, made it easy to slip past anyone who would stop me._

 _I drew him in and slipped beyond the large furnace there to show him the seam of sunlight that came in from the wall. He leaned forward on the stone foundation, trying to get a better look at the crack and for a moment all was silent. He slid back and looked at me. His eyes looked like a small, raging storm and I had started shaking. He held my upper arms to stop my frightened movements, but he still looked angry._

" _How long have you known about this?" he asked._

" _Only for a week. I found it when we were playing Seeker. I was looking for a new hiding place," I explained._

" _You have been leaving the city all week?!" he growled as he held my arms a little tighter._

" _N-no!" I stuttered. "I only left today. I had to finish my snare and find a knife."_

 _At this his grip loosened and he released a shaky breath. "Thank the Valar. Tahna, we are too close to Gundabad to allow anyone, even other warriors, to travel outside the city alone. It dangerous. You know this!"_

 _I was near tears. I had just wanted to prove that I could be the special person my father always talked about. I wanted to bring home my kill just like other boys in the village and see my mother be proud of me. I wanted her to see that I was as strong as her._

" _I'm sorry," I said as tears fell._

 _Suddenly, he wrapped me in a fierce hug, which I returned as I cried. My blood stained hands gripped his uniform tightly so that I could have a better hold on him. My head was buried in his chest so my tears started staining his tunic. I could feel his breath as he laid a soft kiss in my hair and his hand was comfortingly rubbing circles on my back. In moments the calm returned and I found myself looking up at him. He was smiling gently as he looked back down at me._

" _It's okay, Tahna," he murmured. "You are safe and nothing bad has happened. It's actually a good thing you found this."_

" _It is?"_

" _Of course it is," he smiled. "Now that we know it is here we can inform the smiths and refortify the Wall. If you hadn't found it an orc might have slipped in or worse, a skunk."_

 _I chuckled at his joke while I wiped away my tears on my sleeve. Nothing was worse than orcs, but after stumbling onto a nest of skunks outside the city Wall some of the patrolling guards had formed a different opinion._

" _I will inform the Sovereign Lord of this immediately. You go home now, Tahna. Tell your parents you caught this on the Knot – inside the city," he said imploringly. "We don't want to worry your parents and it would spoil your surprise."_

" _Are you sure?" I asked. The smile he gave me is much bigger now and it warmed my heart._

" _I'm sure. This will be our little secret, but you have to promise me not to leave the city without an escort again, okay?" he said._

" _I promise!" I said triumphantly._

" _Good," he replied and held up the rabbit, "Now this is your first kill and that deserves celebration. Take it home and show your parents. I know they will be proud."_

" _Okay," I smiled. "Promise you will come tonight to eat it with us!"_

 _He handed me the rabbit and momentarily covered my bloodstained hands with his. He cracked another large smile and I felt special – like it was just for me._

" _I would be honored. I promise I'll be there."_

* * *

I feel a nudge in my shoulder as I am roused from sleep. I open my eyes to see Dori leaning over my sleeping form. The fire flickers over his intricately braided hair to produce a stark contrast against the night sky behind him. I stare at him grumpily, waiting for him to tell me why I'm being woken before dawn.

"Your turn for watch, lad," he whispers. Oh…that's right. It's my turn tonight.

I nod my head and pull myself from my sleeping roll. Once I'm sitting up properly, Dori hands me a tin cup full of hot tea. It burns my hands a little, but it is most certainly worth it. I nod my thanks to the dwarf and take up my watching position on a tree stump. I watch as Dori returns to his roll, beside youngest brother. I smile sincerely as Ori is now protectively placed between both his brothers. I love their small moments together; it's like being a family within a family. As an only child, the closest interactions I ever had in regards to siblings is with my cousin or with my training partners; so it was sweet to witness these brotherly moments to say the least.

After the morning in the Hog's Breath tavern, Nori eventually came around and apologized for trying to steal from me. However, he only did it after Dori tried to do it for him. Despite his apology, I find myself rather paranoid to have a thief among the dwarvish ranks. I find myself checking my supplies regularly and every night before I go to sleep I touch my hilt less blades to insure they hadn't been taken during the day. While Bilbo may have been the 'assigned' burglar; it is quite clear that Nori is the one who lacks a conscious. Nori actually complimented my skills in being able to sense him and says it should come in handy on this journey. Dori even chimed in, adding that it would mostly come in handy against the mischief caused by the two Durin princes.

I look over the fire at Fili and Kili in time to see Fili roll over and cover half of his brother's body with his own. Poor Kili tries to escape, but after a few futile movements, gives up entirely. I allow myself to laugh at the sight unhindered behind the safety of my mask. The smile on my face is so large that it actually hurts. Only the princes, and on occasion Bofur, have brought such smiles to my face. The muscles in my face are straining after years of disuse.

It surprises me that most of the journey so far had consisted of Nezkish lessons. I had anticipated the princes to allow others to do the translations for them, but they wanted to be able communicate with me independently. So they quickly took up learning the language upon themselves. They are determined to become self reliant and practiced regularly.

However, they are still boys so the first thing they had wanted to learn was how to curse in Nezkish. I shook my head and refused to teach them that even though I found it quite amusing. Bifur, however, happily filled in those blanks, much to the displeasure of the company. There have been several mornings now where the boys would "accidentally" curse at someone. If no one believed them they said they were "practicing". This usually left me shaking in bouts of laughter.

As it turns out Ori is fluent in signing, but he doesn't partake in our lessons – he is far more interested in recording the company's interactions than teaching. However, he did show me a lovely sketch of me and the brothers practicing as we rode. In the sketch, my fingers appear to be forming Fili's name while the brothers were watching my hands carefully.

When the cursing lessons started Dori had been determined to see his brother not become invested in the princes' fun. Despite that it was unfounded, as his brother didn't participate at all, Bofur decided to playfully mock the prude nature of the older dwarf and started singing dirty songs. After the sixth day I had lost count of all the "bonny lasses" Bofur had sung about.

Balin had been quite right about the others getting used to me. I think the reputation my clan had with the dwarves of Erebor made my amalgamation with the company easier. While I could not hold conversations in Khuzdul, the Nezkish made it easier. I think the dwarves are quite comfortable having someone they could converse with about battles and the like in a language that is their own; but still having a second and more private language they could fall back into if it suited them to cut out all outsiders, including me, is a comfort to them. It was slightly rude, but I didn't mind too much.

I see a tiny figure huddling closer to the fire than the rest. I feel bad for the little hobbit because he didn't have a method of connecting to the dwarves like I do. He doesn't know how to sign (though I secretly suspect that he has been watching our lessons), he has fought no battles, and he's a bachelor. I'm amazed at the amount of comments regarding his marital status. For some reason dwarves don't understand that just because there are a lot of females for a particular race doesn't mean all the men have to get married. The only reason I'm exempt from such teasing is because 'I'm too young'. If my mother had a grave she would have been rolling in it.

Worried that I left the tea for too long, I unhook my mask and hold it an inch or two from my face to drink. As usual it is perfect; a simple green tea which helps to remove the cobwebs of slumber from my mind. The dwarves were quick to discover that I made for a bad companion in the early hours of the morn. It became even worse when Thorin began assigning me watches at night. However, the dwarves did their upmost to make sure that I was somewhat comfortable. For example, every time Dori finishes his watch and knows that I'm next he makes tea before he wakes me up because it makes me less of a troll.

I make sure to stay extra quiet while I drink as the last thing I need right now is for a dwarf to wake up and see me without my mask on. I am surprised I have managed to keep up my façade as long as I have. I have been lucky; I'm not foolish enough to assume it is my skills that keep my rouse in place. I have far too many female mannerisms to base my good fortune on skill alone. So far there have always been a few moments where I can relieve myself in private and when it is time for bathing I am always appointed first watch and would go later – where no one could see me. When I bleed it is very light and rarely ever causes me issues, especially with the herbs I take regularly; it is near nonexistent. Then with Thorin's rigorous travelling schedule I have also never had time to remove enough armor that would make them question my gender. All of it is nothing more than dumb luck.

The only problem that I have reached in these past few weeks is explaining the nature of my mask. On the first day out Fili had asked me of its significance. I hate lying – I really do. The fact that I have gone on with my "male" charade for this long is truly a testament to my will power. So as to sate the guilt in my heart I gave him a half-truth. I told him a warg had mauled me and left me deformed under the mask.

The company had been in shock. Even Thorin, who had taken to ignoring my presence completely, had turned around to look at me. It isn't a complete lie; from the top right of my upper lip down to the top of my collarbone there are three, wide claw marks. The lie is that I just didn't tell them is that the mask isn't really necessary.

I received the wound while attacking an orc encampment when I was fifteen. I had pulled back my jerkin, which covers most of my neck, to show them the marks. However, Kili had wanted to see the rest of my face. I tried to politely decline, but Gloin, who had also become curious, told me that dwarves wore their battle scars with honor; he assured me that no one would mock me for my appearance.

In that moment I had thought that jig was up. However, Balin saw my hesitance at unclasping the mask and intervened. He made sure to remind them that the race of men looked at the world differently and that they should respect my privacy. The dwarves of course did leave me alone and I thank the Valar everyday for Balin's presence among them. His brown eyes are always so full of gentle kindness and admiration that I do not deserve; therefore, the guilt continues to grow like a living stone within my belly. I despise lying to him above all the others because he has misplaced his faith and I wish I could do better by him.

Resting near Balin's feet is Dwalin. The only reason I can recognize him from this angle is because of the large pair of battle axes resting beside him. I finish the tea and replace my mask, still trapped in my thoughts. I found it peculiar that Dwalin, of all the dwarves here, is the one that would always be at my side. Whenever I offer to go hunting, Dwalin becomes my second. Before we make camp and I want to do a perimeter sweep Dwalin offers to take the other side so we meet in the middle. Considering how I acted in the tavern prior to our departure, I had been certain that he would dislike me the most.

My greatest annoyance with this is that I am having a hard time trying to understand the dwarf's motivations. He doesn't revere me like his brother and if anything he has remained wary of me. Yet he has now become a constant in my life and we have shared many companionable silences. It didn't start that way though. Many of our early interactions remind me of my conversation with the wizard in the barn; very tense and near hostile. Every time he spoke was a jab and my disgruntled looks only spurred him on. I did my best to ignore him, but it felt uncomfortable that he was there and then never said anything. I remember madly wondering what the dwarf was thinking, but now I have given up in understanding and simply accepted it. Once I had given up on being angry with him he gave up taunting me; I admit it now that later I would miss his presence. It is a long journey to the Lonely Mountain and once it is over I would be all alone again…

Bombur suddenly releases an abrupt snore and I jump with my hand on a dagger near my boot. I discovered early on that Bombur did this from time to time in his sleep. I am not angry or annoyed by these outbursts, despite the unease those moments bring, but I am far more amazed that no one else becomes startled. He is as loud as an Oliphaunt in heat; how does no one else hear him? I recall that early on Bilbo heard him as well. Poor little fellow had the hardest time falling back asleep after that. However, over time even he has become immune to the more abrupt noises.

Slowly my muscles return to their relaxed state, but I move to prevent them from settling. I silently make my through the camp and add more logs to the fire. As I crouch, poking at the fire, my eyes settle on a figure in the corner of my vision. The grey wizard is settled beneath a tree opposite my watcher's post, just outside the camp. His large hat is draped over his face as his head hangs low, as if asleep. Somehow, I doubt he is actually asleep and I am more than certain he is watching me from his perch, but I leave him alone in hopes that he will do the same.

We have exchanged few words, the wizard and I. He spent most his ride in the company of Thorin or Bilbo. However, in the few moments we had been forced into close quarters I could sense that his ill ease caused by my person was slowly slipping away. I think he had begun to realize that I would honor my word (at least this is my hope) and has eased the hostility from earlier. He has instead taken up the pastime of analyzing me, which is almost as annoying. As for myself I'm still a little tense around the wizard because I'm unsure of how to act around him. My experience with the blue wizard left me unsure of how to act around an Ishtar. I almost feel like he already knows everything about me.

I remember those first few hours where I was trapped in an ice cave. After slipping through a crack in the ice during my hastened escape I had fallen and broken my legs. I had long since given up in my struggles and waited painfully for the end when he had appeared.

" _Who are you?"_

" _I am someone that this world has left behind. And who are you?"_

" _I'm afraid."_

A low rumble draws my attention from both the fire and my thoughts. At first I think it's from the woods, but I quickly realize this is not the case. Thorin rests his back on a fallen log to remain sitting up so he can be prepared in case the need to fight arose. He always sleeps like this, unable to fully relax and sleep on the ground like the rest of the dwarves. He is grumbling in his sleep – I can see his mouth either forming words or the beginnings of a snarl; with Khuzdul it's a little hard to differentiate. Since the first day of our journey, Thorin has hardly acknowledged my person aside from handing out orders. I don't know if this is a sign that he is comfortable with my presence or if he simply doesn't care. Somehow I doubt there is a lack of care, for the information he gave me could never be given so lightly, but then again he is a hard dwarf to read.

As with all my watches, however, I do realize Thorin's tendencies to fall into night terrors. He usually manages to wake himself up and I pretend I don't notice, but tonight he seems to be having a particularly violent episode. I watch him toss and turn with his hand fidgeting towards his sword. Despite my concern, I knew I couldn't approach him if his hand is twitching towards his sword; I'd probably die in the attempt. So I continue to watch him cautiously from my position by the fire. For a moment I don't think he is going to wake up, but with a sharp intake of breath he jolts awake.

For a fraction of a second his eyes remain out of focus, still trapped in the dream. However, our eyes meet and it seems enough to bring him back to the present. He leans back looking around the camp from figure to figure, trying to relax somewhat, but is clear that whatever had been in his dreams was enough to prevent him from returning to sleep's embrace. I haven't broken eye contact with his form, but after those few initial seconds he made it a goal to not look me in the eye. Once he realizes I'm not going to look away, he finally gives me a feral snarl.

"What is it, ranger?"

I can't imagine what it is he dreamt, but it must have been something particularly nasty. It's obvious he doesn't want to chat so I try an indirect approach.

 **There is sometime before dawn and it is quite clear that you will not be returning to sleep.**

"Quite the master of observation you are, ranger."

He's awfully rude, but then I'm not much of a morning person either. The only reason I'm civil is that I had some of Dori's tea. I'm starting to think Thorin could use some as well.

 **Would you like to be alone with your thoughts?**

For a moment his eyes soften and he looks away again, as if looking at me brought him pain. However, I remember that look from the Hog's Breath – appreciation. My kind words and acceptance of the terms for the quest had brought out this look in his eyes as well.

I know exactly what he needs without him having to tell me; no one wants to be seen in their weakest moments and clearly this is one of his. So I rise from the fire and collect my bow and arrows from my saddle. Thorin watches me move across the camp from his perch.

 **I'm going to collect breakfast. I will return soon.**

Despite that I didn't ask it as a question, I wait for his approval. I am doing my best to show that I respect his privacy and his authority, as he has mine. He pauses in consideration with a look in his eyes I do not recognize. After a moment, our eyes meet and he nods his head, accepting my offer. I quietly walk past the tree line where the wizard sleeps, heading for a small stream several yards out.

Nothing, but the quiet of the night, is waiting when I arrive so I take perch in a large pine tree as I wait for prey to approach the stream. Not that I actually care to catch anything – I have mostly left for Thorin's benefit rather than finding the company food. They have enough capable hunters that I think we could easily find a morning meal without my help. However, I can't help wondering what sort of dream would set off the stoic dwarf prince. I'm sure that there are plenty to choose from. The Sacking of Erebor. The elves abandoning them. The Dwarf – Orc Wars. Wandering the plains with his people while they starved and begged at the mercy of other races…The list seems endless.

My own memories would leave me awake at night as well, but no one would hear me scream so long as I had the mask on. Tonight's memory hadn't been horrible, but I still felt a deep regret from that day.

I sigh as I look up at the night sky. There are no clouds in the sky and I can see the constellations of the summer sky. The one star I pick out easily is the Star of Numenor – named after the civilization from the First Age. It is the symbol of the Dunedain and our night guide for all rangers as we travel through Arda.

As my thoughts drift to rangers I begin to wonder how my troop is fairing right now. If all is well they should have arrived at Lorien by now, maybe even made their way through the Misty Mountains. I wonder if we would cross paths…I would love to see Ethon again. I feel a twinge of guilt as I think of the boy I had trained along side of since we joined the ranks – he was one of the first to discover the true nature of my gender, but he had been willing to hide it, even from our chieftain. However, my inability to keep lies brought my true nature forward; but his loyalty to me as a friend prompted me to give him my real name. To all others I'm still Kalar, but I just happen to be a girl as well. He had been so clever and playful about the whole affair that I am lucky to count him as my friend.

He has a narrow face and a pointed jaw, which when I last saw had scruffy beginnings of a beard. His red hair had been the butt of many jokes, but he usually laughed along with us. It is likely he is no longer a lanky boy and filled out over the last two years. I have no doubt he would most certainly be quite handsome. I remember staring many times at a small scar over his left eye he got when his father had tried to cut him in a drunken rage. The abuse he had suffered at home led him to join the rangers in hopes of protecting innocent people like him and it made me admire him…

A doe emerges from the trees and takes to the water, but I don't move. I'm not ready to take down that big of game and carry it back to camp, but mostly I don't want to disturb Thorin. With the company travelling in such close quarters, I'm sure it is difficult for him to find peace of mind. The least I can do is give him this time while the others are asleep. So I let the doe drink it's fill and wander off. I still have plenty of time before sunrise.

I wonder what it is he thinks about, the King-In-Exile. When working around the camp I can usually find him looking at the key that hangs around his neck or out into the distant east. I'm sure he has his doubts about the quest, seeing as none of his kin from Ered Luin and the Iron Hills bothered to join him. As with all dwarves they are very secretive, but it is as if every thought Thorin has is something to be guarded. It must be maddening…

Suddenly something small starts for the stream, approaching much more cautiously than the deer. It silently approaches, only the sound of the wind filling my ears. With ease I slide a shaft of an arrow and rest it on the nock of my bow. I wait until it lowers its head to drink before loosing my arrow. It's a direct shot and the rabbit is dead before it hits the ground. I climb down from my hiding place deftly pull my arrow out of the rabbit's eye.

The sky is starting to lighten as I give the traditional thanks to the forest for the rabbit's life before returning to camp. I suddenly have a feeling of familiarity and I pause, trying to think of what it could possibly be. Looking down at my hands I realize they're coated in blood. Just like the day I took down my first kill. I remember a pair bloody hands being held together and I can't help but chuckle darkly at the irony.

"It's not just rabbits anymore. There is so much blood on our hands, Gaellyn," I whisper. "I don't think there is enough water in the Sea of Rhun to wash it all away. I'm afraid that it will never come off."

* * *

 **Gaellyn and Ethon were OCs who just wormed their way into this story and now I need to get rid of them. Muwahahaha!**

 **Remember to review pretty please!**


	6. Long Days and Longer Nights

**So I only got one review on the last chapter. Thank you Queefcream for doing that it really makes my day. So I will actually have another chapter up in a few hours just needs some last minute adjustments. I'm going to stop begging for reviews and just answer and thank people that do.**

 **Do check out Queefcream's Thorin/OC story - Lians' Contingency. I'm excited for the next part!**

 **Also remember anything Bolded in the story is Nezkish signing. Enjoy!**

* * *

Kalar has only been gone a few minutes and despite the peace the man has graciously offered him, Thorin is unable to take it. He worries about the ranger while he is gone. He shouldn't be concerned, but he is. Over the past few weeks the Child of Imelkane has been helpful in most tasks; the exception being the nightly watches. However, Thorin has noticed a peculiar behavior in him that puts the dwarf prince ill at ease. It isn't anything worth mentioning to the others, but it is enough to cause Thorin distress.

There is the fact that when the men went to relieve themselves – Kalar always looks away subtly like he's looking at something others cannot see. If it happened once Thorin wouldn't have thought twice, but it happens every time. And when it's the ranger's turn to bathe he manages to disappear for a time and swiftly returns without having been seen by anyone. At first Thorin thought he might be hiding the deformity he had mentioned the first day on the trip, but it's more than that.

The mask is another concern of Thorin's. The black metal hid practically any way Thorin could read his expressions; and why couldn't he hear Kalar's breath? The mask is stilted as it hides the natural sound of his breathing. Thorin would listen from time to time when the ranger settled down in camp for the night by situating himself nearby, only to be met with an inhuman silence.

It disturbs Thorin in many ways, but what perturbs him more is the fact that he spent enough time watching the golden-eyed man to notice such things. Surely no one spends this much time watching another person. Despite this, the ranger has failed to notice his stares. He thought that he would have been called out on it by now, but the ranger is usually too involved in the day to day activities to be concerned with Thorin's constant stare. So he continues to watch and make note of the little oddities that he finds in watching Kalar.

There is a look in the brunette's eyes when he works with his nephews on their Nezkish lessons or would fall back to travel in silence with the hobbit, whenever the halfling would start showing signs of fatigue. It reminds him of the looks Dis would give the boys when they did something that made her proud; a mothering sort of look.

Usually this wouldn't bother him as Dori is very much a mother hen in his own regard, but it is understandable as his little brother is the youngest of the company. However…it just seems so out of place for someone like Kalar. He is an orphan. He is a child. He is of Imelkane and a ranger of the North.

The strangeness the ranger presents is the reason why in early weeks of the journey he had asked Dwalin to tail the ranger and watch him closely. Naturally, Dwalin didn't find anything worthy of concern other than the fact that he is lippy for someone who couldn't talk. Then again, Dwalin wasn't looking as closely as Thorin.

It is bad enough with his nephews' antics. The boys are quickly becoming enamored with the strength and mystery that the ranger seems to exude. Fili and Kalar spent most of their time working on Nezkish and exchanging sword fighting techniques. When it is just Kili and the ranger they would be having archery competitions or telling stories (with Bifur as a quick translator for Kalar). Then when all three were together nothing would be accomplished. They would regularly break into fits of laughter and spent their free time playing games. Kalar had even shown them a card game called Kings and Queens, which the boys practice every night with the deck from the ranger's saddlebag.

Thorin wonders how the ranger could be so cheerful after all that he had been through. Could he even smile? Thorin thinks that he can, but with that damnable mask in the way it is very difficult to tell. The only way to truly tell what Kalar's mood is by trying to find the answer in his eyes, which Thorin has been finding a difficult task. Once he would look at the golden eyes he found it difficult to look away. All his life gold has been a hard and cold metal that helped his people thrive, but in this ranger it is a warm and living thing. It reminds him more of the warm torchlight from this family's private quarters in Erebor than it did the cold treasury.

Thorin is unable to pinpoint the exact reason as to why Kalar made him so uneasy, but it is a reasonable explanation as to why he felt like he had to watch the ranger. Maybe Gandalf had been right in his reservations. The ranger is starting to prove himself as more of a distraction than anything.

Then Kalar reappears with two rabbits in tow. Thorin meets the same molten eyes that had ripped him from his nightmare earlier that evening. In the dream Thorin had watched the dragon kill his entire company…saving him for last…and forcing him to watch as his friends and kin die. It was only Kalar's flickering gold eyes, which stood out amongst the coins of the treasure chamber and the dragon's flames that called him back to the present. Even now the ranger is keeping Thorin's thoughts occupied.

After a moment Kalar breaks the eye contact and makes his way to his bedroll where he starts field dressing the rabbits. Thorin's eyes follow him the whole time and watch while the ranger's skilled hand deftly skin the rabbits and secure the meat. His hands are quick and effective as he does his task without thought. From time to time Thorin looks up at the golden eyes while they focus solely on the task at hand.

During some of the nights when Thorin would take watch he had seen those large eyes flare open suddenly in terror. They would be looking up at the night sky for something that wasn't there. His hands would curl into fists, full of the fabric that is his sleeping roll. Then he would calm down and relax with tears collected in the corners of his eyes, but never fell. Thorin would watch silently as to not invade the ranger's private thoughts. Then, like he could sense Thorin's watchful presence, Kalar would turn in his roll and pretend to sleep. The strangest thing regarding those moments is that Thorin anticipated a whimper, a scream…something. But there was nothing – no sound at all.

The kinship he felt with the ranger is still present, but the odd nature of the ranger left Thorin feeling on edge. He thought he could come to trust Kalar because of such familiarity, but as the days drag on he found himself watching the ranger with deep anxiety. Thorin looks up at the golden eyes once more only to find them looking right back at him. Their gaze holds for the longest time, neither of them making a move or a sound to communicate. The only sound filling the silence being Thorin's breathing and the crackling from the fire. Kalar's eyes display open curiosity as to the nature of this gaze and does nothing to break it. Before long, the sun rises and dwarves begin to stir. Thorin is the first to break the stare when the silence finally dies.

* * *

"What about this one?"

Kili tries to do…something with his hands. We have resumed our Nezkish lessons that afternoon, but Kili want to try and ask about some signs he had seen Bifur and I use in other conversations. This leads to long and convoluted conversations that rarely ever met a proper conclusion. Kili spends too much time trying to do a sign correctly, but is never really sure what sign it is we had used. This is how most of the lesson has been going – around in circles. It is frustrating, but the stubbornness of dwarves runs strong in Kili as he refuses to wait for us to teach him the signs and does his best to get them on his own. This is both admirable and astoundingly obnoxious. My irritation at the situation is easily read by Bofur who watches Kili make the sign again.

"What in the world are you trying to say, lad?"

"I'm trying to make a sign Bifur and Kalar used when talking about the Misty Mountains."

I try to dredge up memories of the conversations Bifur and I had over the last few days and sadly there had been many about the Misty Mountains so I try to start with common threads of conversations in hopes that Kili will see the one he's looking for.

 **Trail.**

"Not that one," says Kili confidently. At least he seems to know what he's looking for. I swear if I heard him say 'Maybe that one' one more time I would gag the prince and force him to ride his pony backwards the rest of the way to Erebor.

 **Death.**

"That one's 'death'," says Fili confidently. I nod my head in his direction to confirm that he is correct. A smile breaks out under his mustache braids as he is proud to have remembered the word. However, Kili shakes his head, telling me that I still haven't found the word he is looking for.

 **Rock.**

"No," groans Kili. Apparently he's becoming frustrated…I ended up there an hour ago.

 **Goblins.**

"THAT ONE!" Kili shouts.

The other dwarves who had been listening to our rather painful Nezkish lesson flinch suddenly at the sound. Nearly everyone in the company is annoyed with Kili at the moment. Minutes felt like hours and it would seem they wanted the young prince to stop as much as me.

"That one means 'goblins'," says Bofur with a chuckle. I eye him skeptically when he chuckles. The duration of his patience and positive disposition astound me.

Fili and Kili turn back to me expectantly so I could repeat the hand gesture again so that they can try it themselves properly. They do their best to imitate it, but it takes a few tries and I repeat it every time they look to me to see it again. They try to commit it to memory so that they could try it at night when the company stopped and they had nothing better to do. Of course the night wouldn't be complete without a game of Kings and Queens though. Tonight would be considered especially interesting because Dwalin and Fili had each placed a bet on their brothers respectively.

After a few attempts their sign is near perfect. Kili continues it a couple more times, but Fili becomes ambitious. Fili would regularly break out into stints where he would try nothing, but full sentences. He struggles from time to time, but does well more often than not.

"Do you…think…we will see…goblins?" he says as he signs the words with his hands. I watch his hands go through the motions to make sure he does it correctly. He goes so slow to make sure he gets it right that I can feel a smile breaking out onto my face. Once I give him a nod at his attempt and he breaks into a large smile. He's absolutely adorable.

 **Yes. They frequent those mountains.**

"I only understood 'yes' and 'mountain'," says Fili sadly. I am frozen for a moment in surprise that his mood could change so suddenly. The disappointed frown on his face has me leaning down from my horse to place a hand on his shoulder. The last thing I want is for Fili to think that his efforts have been in vain because they most certainly aren't. He looks up at me and I lean back to sign something I do know he will understand.

 **You have done well, son of Dis.**

I would have added more to compliment his skill, but I want him to be able to recognize all of the signs himself. It has the desired effect and he smiles at my comment. Kili stops talking to Bofur long enough to ask what his brother is smiling about. Turning to his brother, Fili does the same signs I have just made perfectly, though still very slowly. Kili's face scrunches up in disappointment, but does his best to try and decipher it himself.

"You have…uh…" Kili looks on slowly gaining a look of incredulity. "You have a nice ass, son of Ducks?"

After the long ride, with the sun beating down on us, and many hours of dedicated to this annoying signing lesson; Bofur, Bifur, Fili and I break out into a mad fit of laughter at poor Kili's expense. Many others are looking back at us now, but they to burst into laughter when Bifur explains in Khuzdul what happened. Kili, upon hearing his mistake in his mother tongue, suddenly turns the color of cardinal feathers. Fili sobers quickly and kindly tries to ease his brother's burning shame.

"Clearly you just need more practice, nadadith," Fili reassures. Fili is a very sweet older brother and Kili an adoring one. They are practically inseparable. The only time I had seen them at odds were in the few practice bouts between dwarves to prepare the younger company members for possible enemies we may encounter on the road. That's when the gloves came off; rude remarks are exchanged and everything becomes a competition. They so did love to embarrass one another, but even then it is obvious how much the brothers love each other.

These two sons of Durin have brought more smiles to my face in these past few weeks than I have in years. I find myself falling in love with their playful spirits and open personalities. They are so welcoming and happy compared to the rest of their kin. If this is what young dwarves are like I hope I have the opportunity to make more trips to Ered Luin and the Blue Mountains. Their light hearts lift my spirit and I find myself quite attached.

I have not lost sight of my own mission and I know that on my own I won't have time for this sort of playful behavior, so I am determined to enjoy it while I can. I will relish Fili and Kili's joyful hearts until it is time for us to part. Until then, I will protect them as best I can and make sure no harm comes their way. They are too precious to lose to a world as bleak as this.

"Eyes to yourself, hobbit."

Dwalin's timber cuts through the noise and I turn to look at the hobbit. He had been watching Fili as he started to correct his brother's egregious error. I do not mind the dwarfs' secretive nature because I understand the ease of putting up such walls to defend oneself. However, the hostile tone the hobbit is receiving isn't necessary or called for. He's only curious and doesn't know better…

 **He's just curious, Master Dwalin. No need to shout.**

"Curiosity gets people killed," he growls. There is a small groan behind us and I know that Bilbo heard him. It brings out my need to protect him from the bully of a dwarf so I unconsciously place myself in front of Bilbo to directly receive Dwalin's heated stare.

"We may be willing to share a language with your people and you can teach it to whoever you please, but Iglishmek is ours and we don't feel like sharin'" he adds. As if shifting some blame on me is going to do him any good.

 **Seeing a few signs without context is hardly sharing and you have no right to scold him as though he committed a crime.**

"You need to be more subtle. One would think you are trying to teach all of Arda," he angrily tells the boys. What happened to the nice times I had with Dwalin? Oh, yeah. We don't speak; or else this happens.

 **He's not a dwarf. He doesn't know better.**

"Exactly! He's not a dwarf. And it is best he knows his place."

Dwalin turns around, effectively ending the argument. However, I continue to stare at the back of his head, heatedly. If he wanted the hobbit to stop he could ask him nicely. For most other creatures I would be on Dwalin's side, but Bilbo being the good hobbit he is has been nothing, but compliant. He has been doing as he's told (sometimes with complaints – but not enough to warrant this!) and he does his best to be helpful. If they would just ask, I know he would stop. The small sigh I hear from behind me is all I need to spur me on.

 **Asshole.**

Fili and Kili, who have obviously learned this word already, break out into peals of laughter. This causes Dwalin to turn around and meet my angry stare. Several other members, who had also seen my gesture, snicker. At the front, Thorin watches our scuffle with mild interest and Balin shakes his head with a sad smile on his face.

Eventually Dwalin turns around, but not before delivering a look that clearly says 'I'm watching you.' I glance behind me to see the hobbit watching me timidly. He gives me a light smile, which I return, even if he can't see it. I hope my eyes are enough to convey that he is not without allies among the rancorous dwarves.

When I turn back I can still see Thorin watching me from over his shoulder. Once I make eye contact, he turns away and returns to his conversation. After last night I have become curious about the dwarf lord's thoughts. He had watched me queerly by the light of the campfire and I found myself wondering what he had been doing. Assessing me? Maybe he knew my secret? No…he wouldn't have left me alone otherwise. Whatever it is he is looking for, I wouldn't offer freely.

We stop later that day on a cliff side just past the Weather Hills. Everything had been similar to the usual routine and I was very happy to find that I didn't have watch tonight. As to the outcome of our game; Kili had surprisingly beat Balin at Kings and Queens. I knew Kili had a natural talent for it, but to beat Balin was quite a feat.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke with a start. I hadn't been sleeping as deeply as I had the night before so when a shriek cuts through the air, I am up in an instant. When I first hear it I think I am still in Gundabad, but a small gasp is enough to remind me that I am no longer within those cold, stone walls.

Bilbo, who had been beside the ponies, scurries closer to camp as Fili and Kili explain that its orcs. My heart is racing with fear as I collect my weapons. The pair notices my reaction when I silently crawl through the camp and make my way to the cliff side with my bow in hand.

"Orcs?" asks Bilbo nervously.

'Throat cutters," answers Kili.

As I look along the ridge for movement or light below, I can see Thorin stirring from the corner of my eye. When he sits up rod straight, I realize that I'm not the only one who's on the alert now. Once I deem that the cry is too far off to be anything for my human eyes to spot I can't help thinking, 'Poor man. He will never get any rest at this rate.'

"There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawlin' with 'em. They strike in the wee hours when everyone's asleep," adds Fili.

"They strike when they feel like it," I growl back at him. What are they doing?

"Quick and quiet," Kili speaks, "No screams, just lots of blood."

I know the boys are young and inexperienced, but this is nothing to joke about. Whatever small orc raids they faced in the Blue Mountains are nothing compared to the true forces of the orcs. The hive in Moria and Gundabad housed numbers they could hardly comprehend. The fact that I care for these boys and want them to be safe, but they thought of this as nothing more than joke made my blood boil with such rage. If they treated this like a joke then they would likely get themselves killed and that thought is more painful than if I were to fail to protect them in battle; by leaving them ignorant of such danger is the same as killing them. As they started to snicker, my rage temporarily became blinding and I throw my bow at the boulder above their heads with such force it splinters and falls into their laps in pieces.

They look at me with looks of shock, which should help to calm me, but I'm still seething. The sudden noise awoke quite a few members of the company. Dwalin wakes the fastest; he takes one look at the decimated bow in the boy's laps and me, and he knows what has happened. Fili looks so confused and Kili looks hurt, but I am still having a hard time relaxing. So I turn on my heel and walk toward the thin tree line, past the ponies. I want enough distance to where I can't feel their eyes, but I can still hear what they are saying.

"You think that's funny?" I hear Thorin's baritone ask. "You think that a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it," says Kili sadly.

"No. You didn't," says Thorin angrily. "You know nothing of the world." I could hear Thorin's footsteps as he shifts direction to cross the camp.

"Don't mind him, laddie," says the gentle Balin. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

I find myself looking back at the camp and the old dwarf. I am now curious. I don't know much about the Thorin aside from rumors and stories; it peaks my interests to learn more about him from his kin. Most races hate orcs no matter who they are, but if Thorin has a special reason to hate them I want to know why. I lean on a tree only a few feet away from said dwarf lord. He is looking out over the ridge, probably doing the same search I had done previously. However, my attention is captured by Balin. I did register the apologetic look on Fili's face though, while Kili's still hangs low.

"After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf Kingdom of Moria, but our enemy had gotten there first."

The Dwarf-Orc Wars. I knew that the dwarves did eventually walk away as the victor after the Battle of Azanulbizar, practically wiping out the orc threat throughout Eriador and Wilderlands. Some of the bloodiest battles in all of Arda happened in the six year war between the children of Mahal and Melkor. I remember tales of those battles making it to the Feasting Halls of Imelkane. They were some of my favorites as a child – particularly the Battle Dimrill Dale.

"Moria was overtaken by legions of orcs led by the most vile of their race. Azog the Defiler."

I feel my heart stop and fists clench. His name is enough to bring my blood to a boiling rage. My hands itch towards the hilts at my back out of instinct, as if his name would somehow summon him before me. My stomach rolls with unease and I almost wish there are orcs for me to kill; if nothing it would release the some of the pressure growing within me.

"The giant Gundabad orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King."

As Balin told the story I could almost picture the battle; swarms of dwarves and orcs, charging at one another along the rocky terrain resting just outside the large Gates of Moria. In the middle of it the pale demon would raise the head of Thorin's grandfather high for all to see. He would have roared in primal glee. I switch my hand's grip my broadsword on my hip with a force so hard that I begin to shake. I can't continue to let my emotions get the better of me. I couldn't make that same mistake again…

"Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing; taken prisoner or killed we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us."

"That's when I saw him," Balin now speaks in such a tone that I look the same direction as him. He is now staring at Thorin with such reverence that I am left in awe. "A young dwarf prince facing down the pale orc."

I feel my breath hitch as I stare at the profile of the dwarf lord in the moonlight. He had faced Azog? A sudden fondness for the dwarf surges through my chest. The beast that haunts my waking and sleeping hours had been defeated by this dwarf prince. I cannot help, but wonder at the amount of courage it must have taken to face him. I know the fear the pale orc can instill in his victims.

"He stood alone against his terrible foe. His armor wrent, wielding nothing, but an oaken branch as a shield."

His moniker was received facing Azog? Nothing, but a piece of wood between him pale orc that destroyed everything I had cared about. It is nothing short of amazing. Despite already knowing that the tale would end with Thorin's victory, I find myself lost in the story.

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated."

A small growl creeps through my lips. 'No they hadn't,' I thought bitterly.

"But there was no feast, no song that night. For our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived and I thought to myself then, 'There is one I could follow. There is one I could call king.'"

I watch Thorin turn around to receive the looks of awe that came from his company's gaze. It is finally dawning on me just how much this quest means to Thorin. Such horrors and trials have faced the dwarves for most of their existence, but this is a chance for them to reclaim something akin to peace. They wouldn't have to wander anymore, they could be safe. I had a while yet before I could find that for myself, but I could understand.

His eyes land on me and before I can stop myself I'm bowing to him. His bravery and courage, in the face of something so evil as Azog, inspires me and lightens the weight in my heart. If nothing it helps me get to know the dwarf lord better and for that I'm thankful. He seems a little confused, which is fair; I was being dramatic, but he nods in acknowledgement. Slowly, he makes his way back to the camp.

"And what of the pale orc? What happened to him?" asks Bilbo.

"He slunk back into the hole from whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago," says Thorin.

"Is that what you think?" I murmur menacingly. My admiration for the dwarf isn't extinguished, but rather put off by his ignorance. Did he really think so powerful a foe would be so easily defeated? Who did he think led the attack on my people? If I thought Fili and Kili's ignorance annoying then this takes all. Thorin is more knowledgeable in the world and he should know better. You shouldn't think your enemies dead until you watch the light leave their eyes. It is the only way to make sure.

"Seems Thorin's not the only one with a deep hatred for orcs," says Dwalin as he picks up my shattered bow from Fili's lap. The rest of the company eyes me, with caution. Guilt settles over me now; I should not have reacted so violently, but I hadn't been able to help myself. My hand leaves my broadsword quickly to sign.

 **My apologies.**

"It's alright, lad," says Balin. "I'll be honest with ya. While I have heard stories of the decimation of Imelkane, I have yet to hear of a firsthand account of the event. If it's not too much to ask…" I raise an eyebrow at Balin, not so much in response to the question, but the fact that Balin is the one that asked the question. He has never asked me a question as invasive as this since the tavern; he's usually the one deflecting these questions from the others. It is peculiar to say the least. I pause in my reply, which is enough time to have someone else cut in.

"Another night," Thorin says suddenly. He is eyeing me curiously and his eyes occasionally flick to Balin. Did…did he just stop Balin from being intrusive? It is oddly considerate of him. I shake my head. No… he just wants us to sleep – we have been up for quite a while now. So with that, most move back to their sleeping rolls, but Balin keeps looking at me for an answer.

 **Another night. I promise.**

Balin smiles and nods his head. I didn't have it in me to refuse him, but I most certainly appreciate a little time between tales. Azog is enough of a tale for one night. I turn back to the brothers and offer to take their watch, seeing as I probably won't be sleeping tonight. They accept, but they don't go to bed and continue to look at me. I have no idea what they are thinking until Fili speaks.

"Kalar, I apologize for the both of us. We didn't mean to cause insult or bring you grief."

 **Sleep, young prince. Let your heart rest easy for you are forgiven.**

Fili's eyebrows furrow as he tries to translate my words in his head. It puts a small quirk in the corner of my mouth and my agitation is temporarily forgotten. He opens his mouth to say something, but Thorin's short temperament rears its head.

"You are forgiven," translates Thorin. "Get some sleep."

Fili gives me a sad nod before rolling over to sleep. Bilbo is still wide awake as I can see his eyes reflecting the light from the fire. To my left the wizard continues to smoke his pipe, his eyes looking into the distance at something I could not see. The rest have curled back up in their rolls to gain what little hours of sleep they could before we started moving again. My perch gives me a perfect view of Thorin as he returns to the rock he had been leaning against for sleep. He too remains awake. With nothing else going on in camp he takes to looking at me rather intensely, like he is searching my face for something. I don't know what he could possibly be looking for. For a moment I wonder if he's going to do the same thing as last night, but over time his eyes become heavy and he slowly falls asleep. For his sake, I hope that he manages to find peace this night.


	7. The World Keeps on Spinning

**Like a promised. Only...1 hour ago...Didn't take as long as I thought it would. Next chapter will be in a couple weeks. Summer courses are keeping me rather occupied.**

 **Again, thank you QueefCream for being such a loyal reader and a wonderful conversationalist. Everyone should check out her story: Lians' Contingency. It's getting really good right now. Can't wait for the next chapter.**

 **And thank you Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - I saw your review just before I published this and want to say thank you, I'm glad you liked it :)**

* * *

Four days later we are set upon by a strong chain of storms, determined on soaking us to the bone. My cloak is hardy enough to withstand the brunt of it. However, my hands inside the gauntlets have now been chilled to the point of uselessness. The only positive at the moment is that I can still feel my toes thanks to my wools socks. In my mind, the only thing worse than chilled hands are frozen feet.

I glance over my shoulder at Bilbo and wonder how in the world hobbits make do without shoes. I know that their feet are kind of like shoes, but still… The look on his face is one of absolute misery. Today's downfall has been particularly thick so he has even started to shiver from time to time. Taking pity on him, I start falling back and fishing out my sleeping roll. Once I'm even with the hobbit I unfurl the roll and cover him up with it. He hadn't even noticed my presence until my roll touches him and startles him out of his thoughts. However, once he realizes what is going on he begins to protest.

"Good ranger, I cannot take this. It is bad enough that our clothes will be soaked," he explains. "You shouldn't let your roll become soaked as well."

He begins to push it off so I lean back over and wrap it around him tighter in place of answering him. I finish by tucking his hands with the reigns to his pony inside the dry fabric. Naturally, his hands come together to hold the blanket in place. He gives me a small smile.

"Thank you."

I smile back at him and hope that it reaches my eyes. He snuggles himself in a little more and I look around at the rest of our rag-tag group. Fili and Kili are eerily quiet, though I think it has more to do with that night four days prior than with the weather. Despite my forgiveness, they have barely spoken to me, our lessons have also halted (though that is due to the weather), and I find myself missing them dearly. Thorin's hardened words have made them quite sad, despite Balin's assurances. They work hard for their uncle's approval and it is not easily gained. I also feel bad because I threw my bow at them.

They are still licking their wounds from that night. While I did appreciate that they are beginning to take things like orcs more seriously, I wish they would revert back to their old ways. They are trying so hard now to be serious, but all it does is make me sad. I had been enjoying their positive energy and their sudden change left me feeling like I had been cheated.

My eyes shift to Bofur as he tries for the third time to light his pipe, and like the last two, he failed miserably. At least someone hasn't lost their optimism. He's the only one without a hood on because of his hat, which allows me to see his face. Despite that he looks rather crestfallen; he gives me a smile when he catches me looking at him.

A little further back, Ori is tying his damnest to keep his journal dry. He kept it in a bag in his shirt and would continuously shift in hopes of having less rain land on it. The rest of the company is grumbling their complaints regarding the weather from under their hoods. I personally enjoy the scent of fresh rain, but since it had been like this before dawn the charm of it has worn off.

"Mister Gandalf," shouts Dori over the pitter-patter of rain. "Can't you do something about this deluge?"

"It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it shall continue to rain until the rain is done," replies Gandalf with sass dripping from his voice, "If you wish to change the weather of the world I suggest you find yourself another wizard."

"Bullshit," I grumble, "If Morinehtar can do it, so can you." Once again Gandalf looks back at me as though he heard me, and watches me like a fish behind a glass.

"Are there any?" asks Bilbo.

"What?" asks Gandalf as his eyes shift to the cocooned hobbit. He raises an eyebrow in question as he observes the hobbit. The halfling's pointer finger appears from beneath the folds of fabric and points noncommittally at me. Gandalf's gaze shifts back to me with a soft look in his eye.

"What about the other wizards?" asks Bilbo as he tries to continue the conversation.

"There are five of us," he starts as he turns back around.

"FIVE?!" I shout. I feel a sudden headache coming on as I rest my forehead on my hand. I am jostled repeatedly as it is highly uncomfortable to use a hand propped up on a saddle horn for a headrest. Morinehtar had been enough of a pain in my ass and Gandalf isn't much better. To think that there are three more…

"The greatest of our order is Saruman the White," Gandalf continues. "Then there are the two blue wizards…"

Two? I recognize Morinehtar as one of the blue wizards. His robes were as blue as the waters of Esgaroth on a summer's day. That means there is another blue wizard out there? I find it an odd thought that there would be another old man besides Morinehtar running around in blue robes. I spent two years with him in the ice caves in the Grey Mountains, learning and growing under his tutelage. I can't picture anyone else being like Morinehtar …

"You know I've quite forgotten their names…" he says lamely. I sit up in my saddle rub my temple. There are five of you; if you can remember the names of thirteen very similar dwarves, but not five of your own kind…what kind of pipeweed has he been smoking?

"And who is the fifth?" asks Bilbo.

"That would be Radaghast the Brown."

"Is he a great wizard or is he…more like you?" he asks carefully. I start giggling behind the mask. I know that Bilbo didn't mean anything by it, but just the way he said it made it humorous. The wizard seems to be thinking the same thing as there is a slight awkward pause before he answers.

"I think he is a great wizard; in his own way. He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others," he says.

I can understand the brown wizard's thoughts as I look down at my loyal horse. I have been on my own for so long, with Wildwind as my only companion that I'm sure I would be lost without her. I rub her neck gently and she huffs, contentedly.

"He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forestlands to the east, and a good thing too. For always evil will look to find a foothold in this world," he finishes ominously.

"What evil, Gandalf?" asks the curious hobbit.

Despite my curiosity at the wizard's answer, I wish Bilbo hadn't asked. As the question permeates the air it turns the rainy atmosphere into something more dark and heavy than it should be.

"A great shadow, the likes of which have not been seen in over an age," the wizard grumbles to himself, "It grows stronger over time…" The wizard trails off, lost in his own thoughts. A tense look settles on the hobbit's face, which causes the wizard to take on a false, cheerful attitude. "But that is why we wizards are here and it is highly unlikely that such evil shall ever rise again. It merely bodes well to be cautious…"

"The rain is finally stoppin'," says Ori.

Sure enough the large, fat drops from earlier have stopped leaving only a light mist in its wake. We still have half a day of daylight left and hopefully it will be enough to dry out most of our belongings. I look over at Bilbo and see him smiling at me.

"At least your sleeping roll won't be too wet," he says cheerfully.

I wave my hand at him like it's no big fuss. I didn't plan on going to bed wet anyway. However, the moment we get a fire going I plan on curling up next to it just to prevent my tits from freezing – literally.

There are a few more days of on and off rain, but thankfully today there is nothing, but sunshine. Everything would be dry and I could sleep properly for once. The moment we find a spot that is dry enough after our afternoon stop Thorin calls for us to stop. I'm glad he recognizes that we are in desperate need of drying out and resting. If it weren't for the damp saddle I would have tried sleeping on Wildwind. He orders Gloin and Oin to set up a fire and has Fili and Kili see to the ponies. I lead my horse over to the boys and hand over Wildwind's reigns. They had been nervous the first time I handed her over to them. Apparently dwarves are nervous of beasts that are larger than them, but once I showed them how sweet she was, they loved her.

I am about to ask Thorin if he wants Dwalin and I to go hunting when I overhear the loud grumblings between the wizard and dwarf prince.

"I think it would be wiser to move on," says Gandalf. "We could make for the Hidden Valley."

I feel myself sigh heavily. Gandalf has been trying to get Thorin to head for Rivendell for the last few days. The horrible weather and Gandalf's insistence has done nothing for Thorin's mood. His temper, despite the little I had seen, didn't need the added prerogative.

"I've told you already . I will not go near that place," Thorin says.

"Why not?" questions Gandalf. "The elves could help us. They could give us food, rest, advice…"

"I don't need their advice."

"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us," says Gandalf optimistically.

Map? What map? I thought that the dwarves just knew where we are going. We are relying on a map they couldn't read? Dwarves have the worst sense of direction and we have no clue where to go? I had been taught by my uncle to read hidden messages; maybe I could help.

"Help?" he asks as his voice dips dangerously low. "A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls. The elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather…betrayed my father."

My heart aches slightly for the prince. He must feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"You are neither of them," responds Gandalf. "I did not give you that map and key to hold on to the past."

"I did not know they were yours to keep."

A heartbeat passes and Gandalf turns my way. He stalks past, completely ignoring me. Thorin follows the wizard, but stops to stand beside me as he continues to watch the wizard with his eyes.

"Gandalf, where are you going?" asks Bilbo.

"To seek the company of the only one around here whose got any sense," the wizard replies gruffly.

"And who is that?"

"Myself, Master Baggins," he yells angrily.

I unintentionally jump when Thorin speaks loudly, "Come on, Bombur. We're hungry."

Thorin turns away to take up a perch on a nearby log. I look between the wizard and the dwarf lord deciding that now is as good a time as any to inquire about the map. Thorin pulls the key out from under his tunic to fiddle with it between his large dwarf fingers. When his eyes look up to meet mine they are as cool as ice.

"I do not appreciate eavesdroppers," he grumbles.

 **To be fair your conversation was hardly private, but the real reason I'm here is to see if you want Dwalin and I to go hunting.**

"No," he says more gently now. "We have plenty for now." I nod my head in understanding. I don't leave, knowing I want to say more, but I don't know how to say it. Thorin looks up at me the question obvious in his slight glare.

"Do you want to voice your opinion on the matter?" he growls.

 **I will follow your lead, Thorin. However, if he didn't want us to camp here, aren't you curious why?**

"The wizard only wants us to make for the elves," he says. "There is no danger here."

Despite that the elves are Gandalf's main goal; I have no reason to believe his warning about the campsite being false. At the moment I couldn't sense anything out of ordinary in the area. I glance at the ruined farm house, but everything is too old for me to find anything of use. I turn back to Thorin and he is still glaring at me.

 **Could we at least set up a perimeter? Dwalin and I could-**

"I said, 'There is no danger here'," he growls. "Do not make me repeat myself a third time."

A small growl emerges from my throat and I'm glad he can't hear it. We are both in foul moods, but if I try to push him it will only make it worse. I decide to drop the subject of threats and instead navigate the conversation to the map. I highly doubt that there is a chance that he will let me look at it, especially in this state, but my stubbornness gets the better of me and I try anyway.

 **What map did Gandalf speak of?**

His eyes harden slightly as he continues to look up at me. "It's a map my father left behind. It is a guide to a secret entrance on the mountain."

 **But it is hidden?**

"Yes," he sighs. He almost sounds…defeated. It is strange to hear such…insecurity in his voice. This is the dwarf who faced Azog the Defiler; it seems unnatural that he would have doubts, but then again if anyone had doubts it would be him. His gaze finally leaves me and moves to the gauntlets hanging loosely between his knees. I feel the need to comfort him, but I reign myself in and reach for his shoulder to draw his attention back to me.

 **Would you like me to take a look?**

The hardness returns to his eyes as he stands. "Let me remind you, ranger, that I do not fully trust you. I have faith in your skills and I can see you can follow orders, but the details of this quest are for dwarves only. You have been playing your part well and I appreciate your willing heart, but these matters are for the Dwarves of Erebor and so they shall remain."

With those as his final words he stalks back over to the rest of the company. The hostility he lashes out with brings my growl to full fruition. Perhaps the wizard is the smart one for leaving. With no way to properly vent I throw myself into work by helping Balin do inventory of supplies. I would rather be doing a sweep of the area, but ever the prideful, stubborn dwarf Thorin would never agree. Usually when my instincts cry out like this I would do it regardless, but I can feel both he and Dwalin watching me closely. I will likely not sleep again tonight as I am now very anxious. By the time sunset is underway, the camp is fully situated.

Rather than the stew Bombur offers, I take out some of my dried meat ration and nibble on it. Bombur used to be offended by my declinations of food, but once he realized I prefer it this way he usually just offers me the dried meat. Tonight I beat him to it, as I am anxiously watching Fili and Kili who are watching the ponies. Whatever is enough to put a wizard on edge is certainly enough to put me on edge. From time to time I will gaze over the forest, but so far nothing seems out of the ordinary.

As if sensing my tension, Thorin and Dwalin watch me from their places farther away from the company. They are eating and talking between bites, but their eyes are on me. Thorin is stubborn beyond reason. I'm quite alright with him not trusting me – thinking he trust me based on a clan that no longer existed and one deed he saw me do, would be foolish. However, the fact that he is ignoring a potential threat to his company – to his nephews – is something that could get us killed. I don't care if the wizard was only using it as a pretense.

Balin suddenly appears at my side with his bowl of stew and I remove the jerky from my mouth. I replace the strap on my mask, waiting for him to explain what he wants. Balin usually eats with his brother or Thorin; while I took up with Bifur, Bofur, or the boys. What did Balin want?

"This seat taken, lad?" he asks sweetly. He has a tender look in his eye and as I said before, I cannot bring myself to deny him.

I slide over and gesture for him to take the space. His smile widens and he sits down. I glance again at where Fili and Kili are at, and when I see them starting to wrestle I return my attention to Balin. He has only taken one bite of stew before he begins again.

"I don't suppose you would be keen on telling that story tonight would you, lad?" he asks. I don't feel comfortable telling this story. However, I had promised Balin; I swear that if he asked me to jump off a cliff for him I would at least consider doing it before I said no. That is just how potent and passionate the dwarf could be…it…it reminds me of my father. They even share the same brown eyes…I glance up and see the others watching with baited breath. It could be worse – at least I'm telling my secrets to a group of people even more secretive than me. Everything I tell them would be safe. I nod my head to them and I swear they move closer to the fire to listen like children. My signs are fast and swift as I weave my tale…

 **The snow had just begun to fall, adding to the frost that had settled the night before. The clouds were just high enough that the sun slipped between the cloud line and the mountains. It was a beautiful sunrise, the rays of gold slipping in from the heavens. It was the last sunrise Imelkane ever saw.**

 **People had just begun to stir in anticipation of the coming day. Women started to feed their families and their livestock while their husbands made their way to their place of work. Guards, scribes, blacksmiths – everyone. None noticed it at first. The thin trickle of people as they left their houses made them easy pickings as they were few and far between. As they finally noticed the dead in the streets, people would run to help them only to fall to the orcs that waited in the morning shadows.**

 **It started on the outskirts of the city. Those of us closer to the Palace were unaware of what was happening until the screams reached our ears. By then the orcs had already started setting fire to the city, the wind of the day's coming storm feeding the flames.**

 **My mother had grabbed me and made for one of the safe houses in the city. In case of a siege the women and children could escape there. In these safe houses were entrances to the tunnels underneath the city. While we made our way to the safe house, my father went to defend the city, as it was his duty.**

 **We were unaware at the time how like a malignant tumor the orcs had spread through the city. After an hour of tense evacuations the orcs finally made it to our door.**

* * *

 _There was a pounding at the door as the orcs and wargs did their best to force the door down. Mothers clung to their children as they rapidly descended into the tunnels. The stream of people flowed through the hole in the floor like a clogged drain that only allowed a trickle of people through. In the mess children were weeping and wailing while their mothers tried to calm them. Every noise only spurred the invaders further._

 _The exception was Nirassi and myself. She held the blade out in front of her, keeping herself between the remaining survivors and the orcs at the door. She had thrust a practice blade into my hand during our escape and so I stood near her in a similar pose. I had only just began my training with Gaellyn, and the practice sword wasn't even that sharp; but it was better than nothing._

" _Tahna, you need to get down into the tunnels, I will be right behind you," she says calmly. Turning I saw that the rest of the people had in fact made it through._

" _No. I'm with you, mother," I stated defiantly. I knew that she was lying when she said she would follow me._

" _You and your father's bleeding heart! Tahna, you do as I say right now!" she spoke as loudly as she dare. I flinched as I knew she was mad, but I did not move from my spot._

 _When I didn't respond she turned away from the door and grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the tunnel. I didn't fight her, but I was afraid of leaving her behind to face the orcs. She was ready to toss me into the dimly lit hole, when a scream sounded. It quickly grew in size and number. We then realized it came from the tunnels. Women and children screamed in distress as they scrambled around in the dark, trying to find a way out. Nirassi's grip tightened on me as she stared down the hole in disbelief. They found the tunnels._

" _Tahna!"_

 _Nirassi's voice broke through my terror filled moment and I looked at her. She had found a chair and immediately climbed it holding her arms out to me as if to embrace me. I hadn't even realized she had let go of my hand. Wordlessly I ran to her and she lifts me above her towards the ceiling. It was made of thatch and a child of my size could still fit through._

" _Take to the rooftops. Do your best to remain unseen. Get to the Weeping Stones and you wait there. Your father and I will come to get you, understand?"_

 _I nodded my head. "What about you?"_

 _Her eyes softened as she looked at me and handed me the practice sword I had dropped earlier. "I will be behind you shortly, little one. Someone might make it back from the tunnels and I need to be here if they do. I will not be far behind. Stay safe, Tahna."_

 _With one last glance at my mother, I pushed myself through the roof. As I pulled my body out, the first thing I saw is smoke. I had to cover my eyes and cough as quietly as I could as to not draw attention from the orcs below. I could see the rooftop of the next building clearly, so without a second thought I launched myself from one roof to the next. The air there was clearer and I managed to breathe properly._

 _All around me was death. I watched as orcs slaughter people in the streets until the cobblestones were coated in the slick, red liquid. There were screams as people tried to flee from their attackers only to discover more waiting for them. These mutilated creatures ran up and down the streets hunting for people, food, and treasures. They came in all shapes and sizes, but all of them were horrifying. All teeth and blades, they were fast and relentless - these were Gundabad orcs._

 _A loud crash drew my attention from the streets. I saw the Palace, which was nestled in the center of the city, begin to burn. One of towers was currently collapsing and likely the cause of the new fires that spread along the walls. I see further away the Centennial Tower was also burning. Flames consumed the air at every possible opening, causing the windows along the tower to look like miniature dragons as they spit flames. The white paint along the outside was starting to turn yellow from the heat and black soot began to coat the wooden sills._

 _Despite the fear that gripped my heart so intensely at that moment, my legs knew where to go. With a running start I made it to the next roof, then another and another. The next building was too tall so I had to use a windowsill to pull myself up. It was then I first saw him._

 _I had paused in my escape, trying to catch my breath when a pale figure caught my eye. He was large for an orc and taller than most men I knew. He was as pale as the walls of the ice caves found within the Grey Mountains. He sat upright and straight on his mount, which was an equally pale warg. There were scars littering his body, but compared to the blade protruding from where his left arm should have been they looked almost natural. The orc and his snow colored mount stalk down the street, opposite the direction I was going. His face, while not as grotesque as the rest of his race, was no less terrifying. He was hairless and it makes it easy to see the pointy ears that reminded me very much of the elves I had seen visit from Mirkwood. His eyes were as pale as the rest of him, but there was a wickedness gleaming within their blue depths. My uncle says, "Evil is created not born." I completely disagree with him and this orc was my proof. To match the look in his eyes was smirk that would make the hair on the back of my father's neck curl._

 _His chest was also littered with scars and ended where a loincloth began. He continued to roll forward with that predatory lull that matched his mount. He passed me completely, unaware of my presence. Just seeing him had me frozen in fear, then I realize he was heading in the same direction where I had left my mother. Tears pricked in my eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to go back. Not only was I afraid of the orc, but I wouldn't be able to save Nirassi. I needed to find my father. I started running again, knowing that he wouldn't leave my mother behind. He was my only hope._

* * *

Naturally I edit out the parts regarding Azog and my real name. The last thing I want is give Thorin another reason to fight with me. When I look up from the pause in my tale I can see sympathy in the eyes of the dwarves as they knew my pain. Even from the corner of my vision I could see Thorin's eyes have gone soft.

"What happened? In the tunnels, I mean?" asks Gloin. It is no secret that Gloin is one of the few dwarves to have a wife and child waiting for him in the Blue Mountains. I wonder if they have an evacuation system similar to Imelkane in Thornost, where most of the dwarves live. It would explain the sudden fear in his eyes.

 **They were slaughtered by goblins. In the cramped spaces of the tunnels they would have been lined up like sheep to slaughter. They were all unarmed…they died screaming blindly into the darkness of those tunnels.**

My callous answer brings forth a harsh reaction of disgust from the dwarves. With the way some of the react, even Gloin, I thought they might retch.

"How?" asks Balin. His throat is tight with unshed tears. "How could such a travesty happen?"

At this I raise my head and make eye contact with Thorin. This is an opportunity make him understand that he is not the only one with a weight to bear. He doesn't have to trust me, but he should know he is not alone in his sorrows. Maybe this will allow him to identify with me better.

 **We were betrayed.**

Thorin's eyes widen and he opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by a loud shout.

"Trolls!"

Fili bursts threw the bushes out of breath. All of us are on our feet and grabbing weapons. I'm first to run up to Fili; he stops when he reaches me, but I grab his shoulder and start looking him over. By the time the others reach us I'm satisfied that he's fine, but he is looking at me with a confused expression.

"What happened?" demands Thorin.

"Kili and I were watching the ponies when a troll came and took two of them. Another appeared and took two more. We followed them to their camp-"

"You did what?!" hisses Thorin.

I'm with Thorin on this one; that was stupid. After seeing the first troll they should have come back to camp – ponies be damned.

"We weren't seen. But Bilbo went to try and steal them back."

"What?!" growls Thorin.

I'm suddenly puzzled as that doesn't sound like Bilbo at all. I feel like he would have been the first one to run back and tell Thorin what was going on. Why would he do that? He knew he would get in trouble with Thorin later. Unless he was saving someone else from Thorin's wrath…I look at Fili again. I notice that he cannot meet Thorin's eyes and I'm sure that there is more to the story than meets the eye. However, that would have to wait…

"Come on," says Thorin.

We gather our weapons and follow Fili back to the troll camp. When we arrive Kili is safely nestled in the bushes surrounding the camp and when he sees us he points to the clearing. What I see doesn't please me.

"Grab 'em," yells one of the trolls.

"He's too quick," says another.

Three trolls are swinging their massive arms around in an attempt to capture the burglar. For a moment it almost seems like he would escape, but is suddenly caught by his feet.

"Gotcha!" says the triumphant troll.

"Bilbo!" whispers Bofur, concerned. He tries to move forward, but Oin and Dwalin hold him back.

"Are there anymore of you little fellas 'idin where ya shouldn't?" asks the captor troll.

With an idea in mind I start looking for a decent sized rock in hopes that throwing it nearby will send at least one of the trolls on a goose chase.

"No," says Bilbo.

"He's lying," says another troll.

"No; I'm not."

"Hold his toes over the fire," says the same troll. "Make him squeal."

I find what I'm looking for and coil my arm back only to see Kili jump out of the bush despite his brother's attempts to hold him back. The rock slips out of my hand.

"You IDIOT!" I scream into my mask. What in the Void did he think he was doing?

He hits the back of the knee of one troll with his sword and after passing him once he slices him again in the foot. The one troll falls and Kili continues forward to stand before the other two.

"Drop him!"

"Dis is going to kill him," says Dwalin.

"After she's finished with Thorin," replies Balin. I swear I can see the mighty dwarf lord shudder.

"You what?" yells the captor troll.

"I said," starts Kili with a twirl of his sword, "'Drop him!'"

The Valar must truly have a sense of humor because when I meant I wanted the boys to return to normal I had been speaking of their humor, not their reckless behavior. All wishes must be made with caution it seems. I look up at the sky as if to ask Mahal himself 'Why?'

The troll, angered by Kili's demand, throws the hobbit right at the young archer. Kili drops his sword in order to catch Bilbo and both land on the forest floor. The before anything could be said or done Thorin surges forward to help his fallen nephew. Dwarves charge around me like I am a stone in a river. Before I know it there are dwarves everywhere; hacking and slashing at the trolls.

I pinch the bridge of my nose from my perch in the bushes. Troll hide is tough shit. Weapons may hurt them, but they don't really wound them. A troll's only weak points are in the face: eyes, ears, and their nose (if you can get up far enough). That why they are so small – because it makes them hard targets. Plus they have a regeneration factor. You need to reach the brain to stop the regeneration from happening and the blow itself is usually fatal anyway.

Apparently dwarves don't know this. They are only going for where they could reach – which is the legs and lower abdomen. If they could work together to bring them down they could reach the proper areas. For a moment Ori has the right idea, aiming for an eye with his slingshot, but he is quickly caught.

My hope is restored when Dwalin and Thorin do a combo that puts Thorin in the air. Only to be disappointed when Thorin went after the arm holding Ori instead of the face. It was a solid move and it had been wasted. I see Oin put one on its knees, but Dwalin knocked out its teeth…and nothing else. My headache steadily grows and I close my eyes. I can't watch – it's too painful…

"Bilbo!" cries Kili.

I look up to see the fighting has stopped and Bilbo is once again a prisoner.

"Lay down your arms or we'll rip 'is off," threatens a troll. A moment passes before Thorin turns his blade and stabs it into the earth. For a moment the company is in shock that Thorin would never willingly give up, but he has no other choice. Despite his dislike for the hobbit, he is Thorin's responsibility. Slowly, the company follows his lead and creates a small pile of weapons.

The dwarves take a quick look around and I realize they might think I have abandoned them, but I don't have time to worry about that right now. If I want this company to make it out of here alive, every second counts. I swiftly make my way back to camp, a plan forming in my mind.

* * *

 **Everyone who was waiting for badass things to happen...it has arrived...**


	8. Child's Play

**Hey everyone. Finally finished my summer class, but life seems intent on getting in the way. I will update as soon as possible, but don't be surprised if it takes a couple more weeks. Everything is hitting me all at once so I appreciate your support and kind words! Everyone have a great day for me ok?!**

 **JollyLoser and TheMoonSpirit101** – _Here you go. As requested! Be sure to tell me your thoughts!_

 **Guest Michaela** – _I will pick up the traitor thing when they reach Rivendell and be sure to tell me if it's too clichéd or not. I realize it is cliché, but I'm trying to make it unique. I hope I don't disappoint, but tell me what you think. I'm really glad you like it so far and I hope you'll stay with me to the end. :)_

 **ro781727** – _Thank you for the correction in the last chapter. I will do my best to be better with the names, but I can always use a helping hand. So thank you again!_

 **BlackHreat** – _Thank you for checking in with me. It really motivated me to finish this part even though I worked for most of the weekend. Thanks for checking in on me. I hope you like this part!_

 **QueefCream** – _Thanks for all of your support and our conversations have been getting me through some pretty bad days. I hope that this is badass enough for you (I'm kind of worried I over did it – but let me know). This one is definitely out to you again today!_

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. We are in the middle of some really crazy stuff and you should check it out!**

* * *

Once I reach our camp, I collect my horse and all of my gear. Cautiously and quickly, I go around the troll camp and set up my first trap in the forest nearby. I travel probably 200 yards out from the left side of the camp relative to boulders at the "back" of the clearing. I use Wildwind to pull down a pair of flexible saplings that are tall enough to get at a troll. Measuring the exact height of the trolls is impossible while they live, but being able to compare it to the height of the dwarves gives me a guess at least. I tie them down using rope which attaches to another tree further behind them as a counter weight. Between the tops of the saplings I tie one of my greatest assets, mithril thread. The thread is flat like a small double edged blade, but as thick as a rope. Most rangers received these for accomplishing great feats; usually just for show. Mine had been given more or less for my heritage as a son of Imelkane when I became a true Dunedain ranger.

The tops of the trees are resting against the forest floor, like innocent bushes, waiting to be released. My hope is that it will act as a giant guillotine, coming off the ground and penetrating the troll's fleshy neck. It would be quick and painless. The plan is to lure one of the trolls in this direction after leading another away from the camp with a distraction. This will hopefully only leave one in camp for me to defeat. I know that fighting is inevitable, but at least it will be on my terms.

With the first ruse set, I lead Wildwind the same way, back around the camp to set up my second trap. In case the distraction doesn't work or I need to buy a few more seconds of time, this trap will hopefully injure, if not kill another troll. I crawl through the undergrowth with ease and climb along the back of a tree facing the camp. I find a fairly capable branch and repeat the process from the other tree, but without mithril thread I'm forced to improvise. So I tie my broadsword to the end of the chosen branch with rope in hopes of making something pick-like. This time though, my trigger is painfully obvious if you knew where to look. Somehow I don't think I can be quite as clever with this device as I could with the other.

This trap is directly opposite the direction my main trap is and places me to the right of the beasts' camp. As I climb down I can see through the thick foliage that the dwarves are divided into two sets; one being placed in sacks and another being tied to a spit to be roasted. When one of the trolls prods Fili a little too hard towards the spit I can feel my hands move towards the blades behind my back. It takes a moment, but I still my hand; I can't allow my emotions to take over. However, I know I can't fight without weapons so I will have to sneak away with some of the dwarves' weapons.

I would have liked Kili's bow and arrows, but they are at the bottom of the pile. Why did I have to go and throw mine? I won't be able to reach it without being spotted. Many of the weapons are too heavy for me as I most certainly won't be able to lift Dwalin's war hammer or Oin's staff. I decide a blade is the most comfortable way to go, but most of the blades are too short for what I have in mind. The only two that work are either Balin's or Thorin's blade. After a moment I finally decide on the top most weapons; Dwalin's axes and Thorin's blade – Deathless. Dwalin's axes are designed to be used one handed and are probably lighter than the other weapons in the pile. Despite that, I know they will still be heavy and difficult to wield, but I have little choice at this point.

"'ever mind the seasonin'. We ain't got all night. Dawn ain't far away an' I don't fancy bein' turned to stone," says the one turning the spit.

With my decision made, I return to the brush and lead Wildwind a little further away from the troll encampment and unsaddle her. I leave the saddle and reigns in a small pile beside a tree. She stands in place, waiting for my command. I take the moment to remove my cloak, which will only get in the way of my escape. Then I remove my mask. The purpose of wearing it is to help myself remain silent, but trolls are dim and will need coxing. All element of surprise went out the window when Kili charged the trolls.

Wildwind takes a step forward knocking my out of my thoughts and I approach her. Then I gently pet her soft neck. We had been through so much together already and I have trained her well to deal with dark creatures such as these, but it is times like this where I feel particularly blessed to have her. She is my constant companion and one of the few people left in the world who haven't left my side. It would hurt me to lose her too…

" _Nin mellon mindil baur restage_ ," I whisper to her. " _Inye baur saideg i Maulir._ _La varqua._ " She muzzles my hand in response and I pet her lovingly. I kiss her nose and hug her muzzle before I leave her to take up a spot in the bushes beside the boulders and near the weapon pile. The boulders act as a shield for the rest of the encampment from the oncoming sun meaning the trolls had chosen their position well…I need just a moment to grab the weapons.

"Wha' about the seasonin'?" says a troll.

"Well have you smelled them?" asks Bilbo. "It will take a lot more than sage before you can plate this lot up."

Despite the groans and shouts of the company I can feel a smile on my face. The hobbit is brilliant; he's playing for time. He is unwittingly serving another purpose as my distraction; it is exactly what I need. He can keep the trolls enraptured with his impromptu cooking lesson so that I can grab the weapons. A loud whinny from the trees calls everyone's attention to my black mare. She whips her mane as though to taunt the trolls.

"Wildwind!" calls Kili.

"What's that?" asks one of the trolls, "Another nag?"

"That's a Rohanian mare! Rare treat that is, this far north. Tom, go collect it!" says another.

"Why? We 'ave plenty 'ere," says Tom.

"Horses eat grass so they don't need any special feedin'. We can eat it whenever we are done with the dwarves," responds the first.

"Go get it!" the third yells. Tom, I think, starts after Wildwind as she leads him from camp. He tries cooing at her in hopes that she will come to him, but she starts walking to lead him further into the woods. She would stop occasionally only to let him think he might catch her. Have I ever mentioned how much I love my horse?

"No," cries Fili.

"Make sure you're back before sunrise!" yells one. "Now 'bout that seasoning?"

Bilbo continues to distract the trolls much to the distress of the dwarves, but it buys me the time I need to stealthily steal one axe and Deathless. I drag the weapons behind the boulder to work with them for a moment, experimentally. After a moment I feel relatively comfortable with the weapons and I lay them down. They are for the fight later; right now my heart is pounding in my ears as fear pumps through my veins.

What I am about to do next is very stupid and risky, but I have no choice as I cannot take on two trolls at once. I walk around the back of the boulder and crouch at the edge, just beyond the troll's line of sight. I breathe in and out deeply, praying that this will not be my end. With a quick rush of speed I burst out from behind the boulder, just beyond where the remaining company members are tied. This positions me right in front of the tree line where I have hidden my trap. The trolls look up at my sudden appearance, surprised. The dwarves do their best to try and get a better look at what the trolls are looking at, but thankfully Fili's exclamation explains all.

"Kalar!" calls Fili from the spit.

"Who is that?" asks Bill.

"I don't know, but I bet you can eat him," says the other.

"I knew you wouldn't abandon us, lad," cries Bofur from the spit.

"The last man we ate was old and stringy, but this one looks young and tender," says the troll with the apron as he approaches me menacingly.

"Why don't you come over here and find out?" I growl. I cannot see the faces of the company, but I'm sure they are surprised. Appearing unarmed, the one approaching troll began to follow me into the woods and away from the safety of the camp. My nimble feet are fast enough to bring me through the forest at a swift pace and it is relatively easy to avoid the obstacles between me and the goal. Immediately behind me, I can hear thunderous footsteps and heavy breathing. Trolls are made for brute force, but their stamina lay more in beating things with their fists rather than their feet. However, I can hear him crashing through the trees, crushing what had been obstacles for me moments before. The sound of a fallen log I passed breaking violently causes my heart to stop in fear, but I don't stop running. At this point I'm relying on my skills as a survivor, sprinting as hard as I can. A troll's immunity to the smaller trappings of the forest make them quite the adversary. The logs and rocks I pass are nothing to the troll and I am thankful when I finally see the "bushes". The trap is only a couple yards away. I just need to stay ahead of him a little longer. This is it…

"'old still you little-"

When I finally make it to my destination my mind switches off and everything I do now is purely instinct. I drop to my knees and slide alone the dirt surface to cut the rope holding back the trees with knife from my vambrace. My falling causes the troll to speed up, thinking that he has captured me. The trees release and fly back into their standing position. The tautness of the mithril thread produces a 'snap' as it lodges itself in the troll's neck. Despite that it is not a direct shot to the brain, the regenerative factor of trolls is unable to heal a wound of this magnitude.

The thread becomes coated with black blood and with a sickening 'slurp' noise, comes out the back of his neck. His face is still a perfect image of surprise as his head rolls off his shoulders. The head thumps to the ground, but it is nothing compared to the noise his body makes when it finally falls to the ground. It feels like thunder travels through the ground and halts my progress as I try to stand. So while I remain kneeling, I take a moment to catch my breath. I look up at the thread and it glistens in the moonlight despite the black liquid that drips from it. I consider taking the thread, but think better of it. I need both hands free for weapons. I finally stand and start backtracking. My legs are a little wobbly from exhaustion, but over time I manage to right myself. I'll come back to collect the thread later.

When I can see the campfire I edge closer to the boulders. I slip back behind the boulder and pick up the axe and sword once more. I furnish them with another twirl, getting a final feel for them before I put them to use. From over the stone I can hear:

"I've got parasites as big as my arm," says one of the dwarves.

If I weren't so tired I would have laughed, but I shake it off and crawl to the top of the boulder and take up a prone position. The dawn is slowly rising behind me. However, it's not coming fast enough. Maybe if I'm lucky maybe Tom will be turned to stone before he can make it back to the camp; more than anything I hope that Wildwind is okay. The other axe is still sitting near the top of the pile, which will be useful if my plan goes astray. I plan on taking him by surprise and that much like the others, he will lean down to try and reach me. At that point it should be easy to reach him where he is vulnerable.

I will have to stay low and use my own body weight in order to successfully shift the weapons around. That is the problem with trying to wield dwarf weapons. My lower back and legs are going to be sore after this. With renewed vigor, I assess my prey. He still turns the spit a good distance away, but is leaning closer in order to talk to Bilbo, who is standing across the fire from him.

"What would you 'ave me do? Let 'em go?"

I take the distraction to leap from the boulder and bury the battle axe deep into the troll's left shoulder. The only reason it manages to break skin and stick is because I hang onto the handle to act as a counterweight. Normally this would be a dangerous position, but the angle of the embedded axe leaves me hanging near the troll's back. Luckily for me trolls aren't known for their dexterity. However, it still tries to grab a hold of the axe by the handle in order to relieve the pain and it starts to spin. I am still attached to the handle as he moves, so I am violently thrown around. I have to use most of my upper body strength just to keep hold on Dwalin's axe and I start to feel nauseous after a moment or two.

Once he realizes he's not going to reach it he slows down, allowing me to drop down safely with Deathless in my grasp. The axe is still lodged in his shoulder when he pulls out a large knife and turns to face me. I didn't see the knife earlier! In a moment of blind panic I grab Dwalin's other axe atop the pile and bring both blades in front of me to block the downward blow. I allow my knees to act like a spring and they take the brunt of the attack. I made use of my shoulder to shift the weight of the axe and throw off the troll blade. He brings it down in another downward stroke, but this time I dodge to the left. This buys me the time I need to charge forward. I hook the axe blade under the low hanging blade in the troll's hand and use my shoulder to throw both the axe and knife away from us. The troll looks utterly surprised, but pissed more than anything.

I use the troll's pause to look at the boulder behind me there is a large crack running in one of the boulders. A plan forms inside my head, in hopes of using the boulder for leverage to bring me high enough to reach the troll's face. I remove one of the daggers hidden in my vambrace, planning to bury it into the crevice and use it like a step to bring me up to the troll's head. The troll starts leaning down in hopes of catching me with its large arms. By leaning down he makes access to his face easier and now I can put more force into my attack.

So I follow through with my plan – I run at the boulders, stabbing the crack in the stone with my small blade until it is properly wedged. With the same momentum, I bring one foot onto the boulder and bringing up my other leg so that my foot catches the blade; acting like a platform to propel me upward. The troll, oblivious to my plan, continues to charge. I throw my arm holding Deathless forward, towards him. I hit the center of the eye and his body suddenly slackens, but the momentum of his charge still held. This forces the body and my own into the boulder. I can feel the breath leave my lungs and my chest screams as my armor pinches my body within, causing me to release a cry of pain. As the troll's body begins to experience gravity it slides me down with it. There is a moment where the body moves just enough for me to shift away from the corpse's large chest to just under its arm. So when I finally hit the ground I am only pinned by and arm. Despite how hoarse my throat feels now, at least I can breathe again.

It is a struggle, but I manage to pull myself out from under the body of the troll. Once out, I find my legs too shaky to stand so I lean against the boulder until my breathing finally manages to even out again. I look over at the troll and see black liquid running from its eye socket where Deathless is still lodged. It didn't make it to the hilt, as the blade had been unable to exit the thick skull of the troll. The axe I had placed in its shoulder appears to have almost come loose due to the regenerating skin. However, the free flowing blood is enough to tell me that the troll is truly dead. When I look away I finally realize that the company is calling out to me, concerned after I cried out.

"Lad, are you alright?"

"Say something, lad!"

"I'll be fine," I say, "Just need to catch my breath."

With their words of encouragement filling my ears, I do my best to stand again. I look over at the weapons and with the thought that the other troll is still out there I want the few weapons I can manage within my reach. So using my foot as an anchor I grip Deathless and pull with all my might to remove the blade from its fleshy sheath. When it finally gives, it is coated in a thick layer of black liquid. I do the same for Dwalin's axe before I make my way to Bilbo, who has managed to stand up in his sack. He is farther from the pile of sacked dwarves and is overall easier to reach. I only make it halfway when a loud voice sounds.

"I got 'em, Bert," says Tom as he enters just through the foliage at the edge of the camp. In both of his large hands he grips Wildwind's legs. One hand holds her front legs while the other holds her back legs. For a moment I see red as he handles her so carelessly, but I remember that he's a troll – it's not like he cares.

He stops rather suddenly, making note of the body behind me. Rather stupidly he looks between his fallen comrade and I, trying to piece together what had happened. After a moment it becomes obvious he can't figure it out so he shifts his attention to what is happening between Bilbo and I.

"What are you doin'?" he asks.

Despite the predicament we are currently in I don't have it in me to dignify the troll with a response. It's pretty obvious what I'm doing.

"Are you tryin' to steal our meal?" asks Tom angrily. He quickly becomes agitated. "Bill, what you doin' sleeping? This man is trying to steal our dinner."

By the Valar. Why can't all creatures of darkness be this stupid? If they were I'm certain that wiping out the entirety of the dark forces in Middle Earth would only take a month.

I glance at trees, trying to gauge if I could trigger the second trap from here. I can make out the rope in the darkness and I'm fairly certain that it will make its mark. The troll continues to talk to its dead comrade, which gives me the time I need to drop the weapons and throw a knife that severs the rope holding the hidden branch. The troll's head is perfectly level with the branch when my blade sinks into his head through the ear canal. The death is instant and as his eyes begin to roll up into the back of his head, his grip on Wildwind immediately slackens. The mare lands on her side and bolts up to avoid being crushed by the body of the troll. As the weight becomes too much for the branch, it snaps both the branch and my sword. With nothing holding it up, the body tumbles forward and produces a small tremor through the earth.

Another sound of cheers erupts from the company. Wildwind comes to my side and as I look her over, she seems fine. I give her muzzle a brief pet and make note that she deserves an apple later. Now more wary of my surroundings I go to Bilbo once more – another knife from my vambrace in hand.

"You haven't seen any more of them have you?" I ask. I counted three originally, but that doesn't mean there aren't more.

"No," says Bilbo, "Not that we've seen. That was the last one."

"Good," I grumble. After loosening the tether at the top of the sack around Bilbo's neck, I cut the rope binding his hands. I slip the ropes off and hand him the knife to free some of the others. I pull another knife from my boot and pull Balin up from the pile to repeat the same process I had just done with Bilbo.

"What happened to the other one, lad?" asks Balin as he searches the tree line where I had lured Bert, I think, away.

"He lost his head," I respond. Kili chuckles at my statement – thinking it some sort of joke.

"Joking aside, lad," says Bofur from the spit, "How did you do it?"

With Balin free I hand him the knife from my hand while I look around for something to put out the fire.

"I meant it literally. I removed his head from his shoulders," I respond nonchalantly. Finding a rather large vat of liquid of some kind – I start dragging it to the edge of the fire. From the smell I can only guess it's some kind of grog. I notice the sudden silence and when I turn around I am met with looks of amazement from the company.

"What?" I find myself asking.

"That's amazing, lad," says Gloin. "How did you manage to behead such a brute?"

"Mithril thread," I answer as I struggle to bring the tub closer to the fire. "It is used by certain rangers for different tasks, but it is strong enough to make it through the toughest hides so long as it is used properly." With a final shove I pour the brew over the fire. There are many sighs of relief as the fire fizzles out.

Most of the sacked dwarves are now free and I'm surprised to see that the trolls had stripped them down to their underthings. Thorin, who has just been freed by Balin, is glaring at me. However, seeing the would-be King Under the Mountain pulled out of a sack in nothing, but his underwear has me choking on my own laughter. It sounds like I'm snorting to anyone who can hear me and I'm sure my mirth reaches my eyes. Thorin's expression darkens at my obvious amusement. He stalks over to me as I try to right the tub that held the grog and ignore his current…state.

"Why did you not tell us that you could speak?" asks Thorin. He is trying to remain calm, but when he crosses his arms and my eyes shift downward at the movement, I have to stifle the laughter in my throat. I have no doubt that I am testing his patience.

"I'm not much of a talker," I respond. It's all I can manage at the moment without laughing. As I approach the spit. Kili and Oin take up the other side of the spit and on my signal we push the thing over. The dwarves land safely outside the fire pit with a loud thud. Several of them groan from the abuse, but are glad to be free.

Balin and Bilbo move with my knives in hand towards the wriggling dwarves. Everyone who had been freed moves to assist their family members that had nearly been cooked. Before I can offer my assistance to any of them, a large hand wraps around my wrist.

I look back at Thorin, this time only keeping contact with his eyes. If I look at him as a whole there is no guarantee that I won't laugh out loud this time. I'm surprised to find that he's not as angry as I had expected. Despite the hard look in his eye, I can see a slight quirk in his mouth that makes him appear to be smirking – maybe even smiling.

"You have my thanks. All would have been lost without you," he says gently.

For a moment I'm speechless for being given a compliment. Let alone one from Thorin Oakenshield after I haven't told him that I can speak. I had anticipated something much more violent. Or at least angry…

"I'm sure you would have worked something out. Bilbo was on the right track – playing for time like that," I say.

Hs grip on my wrist tightens, "That it may have been, but in the end it was you who saved us."

I don't know what to say. Everything had been left to chance – half of my plan relied on luck. Not that I'm going to tell him that. How do you respond to a compliment from a would-be king? Especially one that's in such a state of undress.

"I am at your service…My King," I respond. I can't really think of anything else to say. However, Thorin's apparent smirk tells me that it is all I need to say.

I catch movement in my peripheral, behind Thorin, that is far too tall to be any dwarf. Out of natural instinct, I remove my last knife and position myself between Thorin and whatever is emerging from the woods. However, the ferns are pulled back to reveal Gandalf. The wizard seems equally startled by my appearance as I had his. Relaxing, I resheathe the blade and move back towards the others; giving Gandalf and Thorin the chance to speak while Thorin redressed.

"Damned wizard," I say tersely.

With everyone free Balin and Bilbo return my knives. Bofur brings over my last one; the one that had cut the rope of the trap that felled Tom. As the dwarves take back their arms I notice that both Dwalin and Thorin eyed their weapons with newfound pride. Trolls are hard to kill, and any weapon that managed the feat would be considered remarkable. They would be worthy naming if they weren't already. Despite that my sword had done the same it is the only one that shattered.

"Shame about that, lad," says Dori as he picks up the pieces of my blade. Half of it is missing, which is still fully lodged in the troll's head. That's what I get for not getting a custom blade. I discard my scabbard as it is now nothing, but dead weight. As the sun finally peaks over the boulder. Tom's skin starts sizzling and cracking before becoming stone. Soon the other bodies will follow if they hadn't already.

"I'm going to retrieve my gear," I comment aloud; the statement is more for the dwarves' benefit than mine. Last thing we need is them scattering through the forest looking for me.

"I'll come with ya," volunteers Dwalin. I give him a nod of approval, not that he would need it. I'm sure he would come with me even if I hadn't given him permission. I start walking back into the woods with Dwalin hot on my trail. My legs are screaming with exhaustion and my mind is finally coming down from its heightened state, leaving me rather sluggish. With the light I can now see the path of destruction the troll left behind in our chase. Several trees had been scrapped raw and at least two large boulders are in pieces. At the end of it all is the troll's body, which had most certainly turned to stone. Above it my mithril thread gleams in the morning light, still taut between the two trees.

"Mahal's beard!" exclaims Dwalin quietly. He taps the head with the toe of his boot and eyes it warily. I ignore him and work my thread out of the trees. Once done, I notice the blunting on the side where the impact took place. If I did much more with it, it would surely break. It is quite lucky then that I find myself surrounded by dwarves. Maybe Balin could fix it for me…

I notice Dwalin's eyes have shift from the stone head to the thread in my hands. I hold it out to him. I know that most mithril comes from Moria, which even now remains lost to them. The metal is rare, even for dwarves, so I am more than happy to share it with them; aside from a tool the mithril means nothing to me.

"Go ahead," I offer, "I don't mind."

With a small glare he takes the thread and starts looking it over with awe. He studies it over a couple of times before he speaks.

"Not half bad work, this," he says. "But it'll be in need of some repair from the looks of it. The troll really did a number on it."

"I'm not surprised," I comment. "Troll hide is near impenetrable and they have the ability to regenerate." He looks up from the thread and takes in my face with another cautious glare.

"Didn't care to share that knowledge with us?" he asks.

"I planned to, but Kili was all too eager to find out for himself," I answer.

At that Dwalin grunts and returns to looking over the thread. He plays with it in his hands – feeling the material's weight in his hands before wrapping it around his knuckles and tightening. He is clearly in another time and place as he does this. His eyes are far away as he watches the metal in his hands.

"I haven't seen this much mithril since I was a lad. When we still had Erebor," he says sadly.

I pause in momentary shock. It is so sentimental that I wonder if I just heard it pass through the dwarf's lips. I look at the thread itself, remembering when Arathorn had given it to me. It had been a great honor, but somehow the pride I felt diminished when comparing it to the sad joy in Dwalin eyes as he remembered a happier time. It is worth far more to him than me. All I need is the rank of ranger for my purposes, not the gifts.

"Then you may keep it," I tell him. "Until we have reclaimed Erebor and all the mithril within, it is yours."

He looks up at me with surprise written across his features. He looks like he wants to say something, but the words are caught in his throat.

"May it serve you well."

I start off for camp, giving Dwalin a moment to collect himself. That sad look on his face is more frightening than when he is in the heat of battle. When I return I can see that half of the company has left; most likely to collect what remains of our camp from last night. Off to the side I can see that Kili found my supplies I had left in the forest prior to my attack. He is currently replacing Wildwind's saddle and bridle by standing on top of a large rock.

I can feel the smile on my face as he brushes his hand along her neck. He is talking to her and though I cannot hear it – I'm sure he is lecturing her about getting involved with the trolls. A small giggle escapes my lips before I hear the pounding footsteps. I look to my left to see Thorin approach me with a stormy look in his eye. Gandalf follows the dwarf, but is looking at me with a curious expression. I feel my smile vanish – I'm not in the mood for the wizard today and clearly neither is Thorin.

"Where is Dwalin?" he growls. For a moment I just look at him. Does he honestly think I hurt Dwalin? Is he trying to make me out to be a villain of sorts even after everything I had done? There is no pleasing this dwarf. Compliments one minute and accusations the next. What is wrong with him? He becomes angrier with my silence and opens his mouth to state as such.

"It's alright, Thorin. I'm right here," says Dwalin as he emerges from the trees with the mithril thread still in his hands. He's holding it out in front of him like he might break it. Overall, it looks odd for the warrior to be gentle with anything.

"What is that?" asks Thorin curiously.

"By the seven lords! Is that mithril?" says Bofur as he races over. Without touching it, he examines the piece in Dwalin's hands. Thorin, who is also curious, goes over to look. I take that moment to escape and head to the far side of the camp where the shadows are greatest. It isn't likely that trolls would have let themselves stay out this long unless they had a cave nearby.

"That it is," says Dwalin.

"Where did you find this?" asks Thorin.

"I didn't find it. It was given to me," he answers.

"Who gave…?"

As I crouch to examine the tracks I could feel their eyes on me. I do my best to ignore them as the others return to the clearing. Upon seeing the gathering around Dwalin most of them join in, but Fili sees me and comes to investigate.

"What do you see, Kalar?"

"The trolls couldn't have moved in daylight. These tracks are theirs and will likely lead to a hoard," I answer. I have seen two hoards in my short lifetime and neither of them were very pleasant.

"What's in a toll hoard?"

"Usually treasures and possessions that belonged to their previous meals," I say as I hear Fili's breathing stall. "But sometimes they also keep prisoners."

"You think there might be people in there?"

"It's a possibility," I answer. "I need to go make sure that is not the case. I will return shortly."

I try to walk off, but Fili calls back to the others for them to follow me. In all honesty I had hoped for a moment of peace, but that hope is in vain. I can hear the dwarves trudge after me as I make my way to the cave. The tracks are fairly obvious and I'm sure anyone else could have followed them, but I am eager to make sure no one is left to suffer in the caves.

As I walk a thought comes to me. Without my mask it is clearly obvious I am not as badly mauled as I had made out to be. Not to mention I know I sound more effeminate than I should, but everyone still called me 'lad.' No one had made a comment on either of these things. There is no way…Am I really getting away with this?

* * *

 **(My Horrible) Translations:**

Nin mellon mindil baur restaeg. – My friend, our comrades need your help.

Inye baur saideg i Maulir. – I need you to distract the trolls.

La varqua. – Do not be afraid.

 **The Sindarin is messed up I know, but just roll with me because I don't have the fancy keys for the special phonics. I also know that Dwalin was born two years after the fall of Erebor in the books, but I decided to make him older like the movies and said he was a kid when it fell. I hope no one is too upset by that.**


	9. An Early Start

**Hey everyone. Before you get too angry let me explain myself. My job has had me down for 40 hours the last four weeks. I work at University Bookstore in textbooks so you can imagine how that process has been going since school just started. That's the other thing too. Along with the 40 hours I have been doing classes so as you can imagine I have been exhausted. My boss has also been taking my Saturdays regularly. My first exam is this week…and I haven't studied. Anyway these are my excuses please don't be too mad. I'll be dropping to 30 hours this week, but expect the chapters to be biweekly updates. I won't leave you hanging this long again unless it's an emergency! Promise!**

 **Guest, Lanariel Greenleaf, GlassGazer, and angel897 –** _ **I'm sorry for the horrible delay, but here it is none the less and I hope you enjoy it!**_

 **ro781727** – _Thank you for the correction in the last chapter. I will do my best to be better with the names, but I can always use a helping hand. So thank you again!_

 **BlackHreat and Lady Arien of Rohan** – _You are absolutely right and we are coming down to that. I didn't realize we were jumping into the action this quickly, but you will receive all the revealing goodness when we reach Rivendell. Promise!_

 ** _Michaela –_** _I'm glad you liked the battle! I really wanted to show there is more to her skill set than being Rambo, but also that she recognized she has limits._

 **0x0UnderDog0x0 –** _I don't think I can let her get away with it for much longer the dwarves just aren't that silly. As to the nasty bit…gonna be a while before we get there._

 **QueefCream** – _Challenge accepted! ;) I read your intro to your latest chapter and after reminding me I haven't posted in a while really got my butt in gear. I'm sorry I haven't read or posted a review for the new chapter yet, but I figured I would reward myself with it when I finished this chapter. So that is where I'm going after this. Thanks for being such a great friend!_

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She's starting up her second part already and I'm sure it's gonna rock!**

* * *

I am surprised to find that the cave is fairly small for a family of three trolls. I have seen two other caves and they had been much bigger than this one; and one of them had belonged to only a single troll. We are standing outside the opening, waiting for Thorin to finish making his choice of who would enter the dank hole in the ground. I lose myself staring into the large gaping hole in the earth, trying to "feel" out and see if there still may be something alive in the cave. Most rangers have a sense for danger naturally, and we develop it while we live in the camps. My senses for such things are extremely high since they were enhanced while training with _Morinehtar_. After a moment I determine that there is in fact nothing else waiting for us in the dark cavern. I feel better knowing that at least no one is still suffering. It is known that trolls could sometimes keep prey alive for days until they are eventually eaten or starve to death. Either way, the outlook would be grim for any survivor.

"Ranger!"

Thorin drags my attention away from the cave. From the tone I receive, I realize must have overlooked his calls while scanning the cave with my sharp senses. When I turn back to look at him I can easily see that the would-be King Under the Mountain is quite peeved. How long had he been calling for me?

"Nothing is alive in there aside from the insects. The hoard is safe enough," I explain. I stand to my full height and hold his gaze, unwilling to be intimidated by his moodiness.

"Sometimes there are traps in places such as these," counters Gandalf.

"That usually only occurs when dealing with trolls from the White Mountains. They have a higher intellect since they encounter humans on a regular basis. These trolls came from the Trollshaws, which means they rarely encounter humans and are exceptionally stupid. They wouldn't have been able to tie a single boot between the three of them," I clarify. I take the first step into the cave, confident in my ability to determine whether or not it is dangerous. The wizard and Thorin are right behind me when I enter, remaining overly cautious of our surroundings. There is an overwhelming stench radiating from the muggy earth, but I have smelled worse than this. I quickly revert to breathing through my mouth to avoid the worst of it.

"You seem to be well versed for someone so young," comments Gandalf. He sounds rather curious, but much like Morinehtar he rarely seems to be forward about his questions. However, I will give it to Gandalf that he is far gentler about such matters than Morinehtar.

"I've been to two other troll hoards with my camp. I'm hardly an expert, but compared to the other trolls I have seen…these weren't too bad," I say.

"Not too bad?! We were nearly eaten!" exclaims Bofur. He along with Gloin, Dwalin, and Nori, begin to hack and cough as they take in their first scent of a troll hoard. Even the Children of Mahal, tough as they are, are no match for the first scent of foulness that is a troll hoard.

"I lost five fellow rangers between both of my previous encounters." I turn to them and they all fall silent. "All things considered, I think today went exceptionally well."

Their eyes follow me and I can feel the empathy in their gaze, but we enter deeper into the cave where they discover gold everywhere. There are small chests of it piled near the entrance, but most of it litters the ground, forgotten. Trolls do like shiny things, but they don't hoard gold exclusively like dwarves. They are more like scavengers, willing to take whatever came their way. However, it would appear that a couple of the troll's victims had been very wealthy. The large crates near the walls lead me to believe a caravan travelling along the great East road must have suffered at their hands.

"Shame to leave it lying around," says Bofur as knocks around some gold coins with his foot. "Anyone could take it."

Despite the casual tone of the conversation it is obvious what he is talking about. All my life I have heard stories about the infamous greed that could at times possess dwarves. I find it rather peculiar that dwarves, who are resilient to all things, would have such an unhealthy affection for something like gold. It is cold and shiny thing that over time would fade; it is fleeting in the long lives of dwarves. Maybe that's their curse for waking too soon…

"Agreed," confirms Gloin. "Nori…get a shovel."

I feel my eyes roll in my head as I saunter into the cave unabashed. Deeper in there are several more chests overflowing with gold and silver, but there are other things that catch my attention. In the back and along a side wall, there is an open trunk on top of a crate of what smelt like old spices. From the condition of clothing they appear to be dresses that had been ripped into rags by the trolls. The ground is still littered with pieces of rich fabrics made from what once would have been lovely gowns. I notice that on the ground in front of the crate is a small knit hat. It is too small to be for anything else, but a baby. It had likely fallen out of a smaller compartment of the trunk when the trolls started yanking out the clothes. Just seeing the small and dirty thing lying on the musty cave floor is enough to make me nauseas. My mind can't stop wondering if the trolls ate the baby in front of the mother or if they let it starve for while as it cried out for its mother's arms. My heart seizes and I cannot take it anymore. I turn away to make my way back to the others, and more importantly some cleaner air. I have no names for these poor people, but a small prayer for them slides out between my clenched teeth. At least I can hope that they found peace.

I see Thorin setting down a torch to investigate a rack of weapons, particularly the swords. I leave the ghosts of the troll victims to invest myself in Thorin's intrigue. By throwing myself into something else, it provides me with some comfort and allows me to forget. On the other side of him is Gandalf who takes a sword that Thorin is holding out to him. He puts his staff in his shoulder so that he may use his hands to pull out the sword.

"These swords were not made by any troll," says Thorin as he looks over another web-covered sheathe. He glances up to see me watching over his shoulder and our gazes meet. He is watching me carefully from over his shoulder, but I split my attention between him and the weapon in his hands. I worry sometimes that Thorin knows what I'm thinking and it is difficult for me to keep eye contact with him. I do my best to ignore his smoldering gaze so his own returns to the examination of the sheathed blade.

"Nor by any smith among men," says the wizard as he looks over the metal of the blade. "These were made in Gondolin; By the High Elves of the First Age."

At the mention of the ancient elvish kingdom, Thorin immediately looks at the blade disgustingly; as if the blade itself is an elf. He moves to put the sword back without even looking at it when Gandalf cut him off mid-movement with a harsh tone, "You could not ask for a finer blade."

Thorin is prepared to argue his point when he removes the blade from the sheathe to critique it, but it is obvious from the look on his face that could only find perfection in the elvish steel. Even my untrained eye can see that the blade is well balanced and has barely dulled despite it being two thousand years old. His eyes rake over it as both a harsh critic of the elves and as an admirer of craftsmanship. Despite the little I know about dwarves, I could easily gather that dwarves are very proud of their crafts and took great pride in their work. I remember my surprise when Balin had told me that Thorin had worked among the smiths of men. My first thoughts of him in Bree had been that he is a blacksmith. So it makes sense that Thorin would have an eye for blades – even ones forged by elves.

"Here, lad."

I turn to see that Dwalin is handing me a sword. He must have pulled one from the other rack just to the left of Thorin. He hands it to me with the blade turned horizontal. Much like the other sheathes they are coated in cobwebs, but I've seen spiders big enough to eat a man so I'm not too worried. Holding it in my hand, the even distribution of weight leads me to believe it is either of dwarvish or elvish make. Humans can make balanced blades, but it is far more common amongst the other races who take more time and care with their work. Removing it from the sheathe I confirm that it is of elvish make. However, I notice that there is something strange…

"Is that rust?"

Elvish blades – particularly ones from the First Age – are legendary; and it is known that they do not rust. Dwalin takes up the torch that Thorin had laid down earlier and brings it closer to examine the metal with me. With the light I can see the blade better now. It isn't rust, but the blade is darker in patches with no real pattern; like blood that had never properly been washed off. I run my fingers across the metal and feel only smoothness; the rough feel of rust is nonexistent.

"I don' know what that is," says Dwalin. He glances over my shoulder, likely at Thorin, but then looks back at the blade. A heartbeat later he looks at me, "Do you want another one?"

"No," I say calmly. "This will do. Thank you very much, Dwalin." I think that this is his way of returning the favor for the mithril thread and don't want to insult his gesture of generosity. The dwarf nods his head in approval and turns back to the others digging a hole near the entrance of the cave. I wipe off the leather sheathe in hopes of removing some of the thick webs and dust. When I am finally satisfied with my progress, I attach it to my hip properly. When I turn around I find Thorin staring at me in the dim torchlight. For a moment I thought he had been only staring at the new sword at my hip, but when his eyes travel up to meet mine, I realize that he is looking me over.

The hard look in his eye is questioning and a tense silence passes between us. I know that Thorin is the closest of the company to figuring out my gender because he so actively aware of everything I do. Most of the others are still too enamored with the idea that I'm a male warrior from the clan of Imelkane to really notice, but he just seems to notice everything. We share another long gaze before I break away and make my way back to the mouth of the cave in hopes of getting some rest before moving on.

* * *

After the ranger broke his gaze, Thorin follows him with his eyes as he walks to the entrance of the cave and past the others. Watching Kalar leave put a sense of unease in Thorin's gut and it makes him eager to leave this place. Thorin only glances at the rest of the cave before calling the rest of the others away from the cave's treasures. Most of them quickly finish burying their treasure and follow after Thorin. The wizard does linger, but the leader of the company doesn't dwell on it. The wizard will certainly do as he pleases.

Upon emerging the company remains spread out along the ridge. The most noticeable are the three figures resting along the small boulder opposite the cave. Fili, Kili, and Kalar have taken a seat upon the ground and lean upon the cold stone. None could blame them as the night had been long and no one had slept. Thorin is even considering letting them stop early once they return the road in hopes of regaining lost sleep. However, his nephews and the ranger seem rather impatient and insist upon reclaiming it now. Thorin watches the ranger as his breathing slows and evens out, indicating his travel into a more peaceful slumber.

Thorin had thought that by removing the mask it would ease the tension he felt when he watches the ranger; that by somehow removing that strange object it would make the lad more human. It has succeeded. The lad has a fair face, a tan line forming where the mask rests on the top of his nose. The nose is narrow and makes a slight point downward towards his lips. The lips themselves are slightly cracked and dry from days on the road. The scar, if it can be called that, starts on the very top right of his mouth and drags downward. The wounded tissue surrounding the orifice is pale and the rest a light pink. It is nothing compared to some of the battle scars Thorin had seen among his kindred, but Thorin will not deny that it is rather intriguing in a way. There is something about the way skin puckers around the odd scar and how it curves when he smiles...

But now it also brings him more worries. It didn't bother Thorin so much that he hid the fact he could speak, though that is highly annoying, but the fact that he sounded, in short, like a girl. The voice is too high and the inflection suited the ranger's strange behavior, but it only left Thorin with more unease.

Thorin swiftly decides to council with Dwalin and Balin on the matter. They are his oldest friends and would certainly be the most help on matters such as this. As he passes them Thorin throws a look at Balin and once he starts following his king so too does Dwalin. They move just beyond the company so that they may speak without being overheard.

"What is it, Thorin?" asks Balin.

"It's about the ranger," answers Thorin plainly.

"What's wrong now, lad?" asks Balin. "He just saved our lives; we should be thankful."

"Surely you cannot be so blind, old friend. I have allowed many strange things in regards to the ranger pass at this point, but this…Did you hear him speak earlier? Does he not sound ill or much too like a woman? Do not tell me you have not heard it," drawls Thorin.

"Aye, I've heard it," confirms Dwalin.

"As have I," says Balin. "But he is the proper age for such changes."

"Changes?" asks Thorin confused.

"He's only thirty three years old, Thorin," says Balin gently. "We dwarves do not mature until our fortieth year. Prior to that we undergo many changes; it is part of becoming a man. One of the several changes includes our voice. I will remind you he sounded very much male when he cried out after defeating the troll in camp. He is merely maturing, Thorin."

"That maybe true for dwarves, but he is of men. That doesn't apply to him; not even our womenfolk have a voice that high," Thorin disagrees.

"He is of Imelkane, Thorin. That means that his lifespan will follow something closer to our own than that of a regular man," Balin counters.

"And human lads can shriek like harpies when they are gaining their true voice. I have seen it," adds Dwalin.

"However, it is true that I have mostly assumed. If you wish I may ask him for you or you may ask him yourself," offers Balin.

"No!" say Dwalin and Thorin simultaneously. The subject of coming into manhood is very personal among dwarves and is usually reserved for close family members. Fili and Kili had both gone to their uncle with their…adjustments. He can't imagine having that sort of intimate relationship with the ranger. It would only be more awkward seeing as Thorin is a King in Exile, it is simple not done.

However, Thorin also didn't want the ranger to think that he is on to him. If it were just coming of age it would explain much of the odd behavior, but Thorin simply didn't believe that to be the case. The last thing he needs is for the golden-eyed child to catch on to him knowing.

"Still, ain't he a little young for that?" asks Dwalin.

"An early bloomer, perhaps. As I recall, brother, you began such a journey at the age of 35. You and Kalar barely have two years between each other so it's not too different," chuckles Balin.

"At least I had some beard on my face by then," grumbles Dwalin.

This talk had been meant to make Thorin feel better about the situation with the ranger and have his friends make him believe his fears were unfounded. He so wanted to allow himself to give into the trust the ranger provided to the rest of the company, but as King he could not allow himself to trust so easily, especially after his experience with the elves. However, too many questions rest in the front of Thorin's mind. One such question came from a moment in which they preparing to leave the troll camp. In the few moments where the ranger had returned without Dwalin by his side, Thorin had been more worried about his friend. But then he had heard the boy giggle – giggle! It had slipped out while he had been watching Kili interact with the horse. Something is still not right…

A hand on his shoulder brings him back into the conversation. Dwalin looks over his friend's face, trying to reach the root of Thorin's worries. His friend had been beside him in every battle since Erebor fell and much like his brother had shared every confidence and doubt. He even confessed to him the doubt of Balin's judgment in regards to the ranger. Dwalin had been offended at first, but slowly came to the same conclusion as Thorin; that Balin did favor the ranger too much and too often. For a brief, while Thorin had been worried that the mithril that the ranger had bestowed upon the warrior might have driven him to think differently, but that is not the case. Thank the Valar for small mercies…

"I will keep an eye on 'im," assures Dwalin, "As promised."

"Both of ya are overreacting," laughs Balin. "Even if something were amiss what would it be? What do you think is wrong with the lad?"

"I…"

Thorin's eyes shift towards the ranger who is now resting on a rock between sister-sons. The boys had already asked once for his permission to give the ranger a bead and braid. They had hoped to tie the ranger to the Line of Durin for the rest of his days by serving the royal family. Of course the boys had seen this as a way to adopt the ranger as a brother without limiting his freedom by officially making him part of the royal family. However, they didn't realize Kalar would have to stay in the mountain and as a ranger he couldn't be forced to remain within the stone halls of Erebor. He serves all of Middle Earth and in order to divert that path it would have to be of his own free will. Putting a bead in his hair without telling him of its significance would be unfair.

However, with this new anxiety, Thorin finds himself thankful to deny them for more reason than one. All three lads have their eyes closed; in hopes of taking back some of their stolen sleep. The ranger, who had been leaning more on Kili, let his head fall down so that his nose fell in the thick of Kili's hair. Upon finding comfort in the new position the ranger nuzzled closer to Kili. For some the scene would be cute and to others it would be funny, but for Thorin it sends shivers down the back of his spine. Something about all of this isn't right. And the only option he was thinking of is too outlandish…

"I do not know," he says. "But I will find out."

There is a large crash in the forest and when Thorin looks back at the company to give orders he realizes they haven't even heard the noise. Except for the ranger – he met his eyes amongst the idling company members. His wide, golden eyes look in the direction of the noise as he shook Fili and Kili awake. Balin and Dwalin, who are close enough to also hear the noise, return the small group to collect their weapons.

"Something is coming," Thorin warns the group.

Everyone quickly takes up weapons and makes for a more defendable position. If they remained here whatever is coming would force them into the troll hoard and Thorin would rather not smell another one of those for the rest of his days.

"Stay together! Arm yourselves!"

The wizard's outbursts are hardly necessary as dwarves are quite capable of defending themselves. If anything he may be giving them away…Thorin takes the lead as he charges the disturbance head on in hopes of surprising this new foe. However, Gandalf calls them back.

"Wait!"

The company comes to a jerking halt as a man on a sleigh slides out of the forest underbrush. The man looks quite old and so does his warn, brown robe that comes with a hat that reminds Thorin of Bofur's. He also has a large smear of bird droppings along the side of his face, but apparently hasn't taken notice. He slides slowly past the dwarves who have managed to make the most distance, Thorin included. He shouts about thieves, fire, and murder before Gandalf approaches him.

"Radagast! Radagast the Brown!"

Gandalf sheathes his sword and so Thorin relaxes slightly. Gandalf approaches the odd man, but Thorin is distracted by a 'thump' nearby. Apparently the ranger tossed down his new sword in frustration and plants himself firmly at the base of another rock and shuts his eyes.

"Another fucking wizard," he grumbles pulling his cloak hood over his head. Thorin and the rest of the company watch him curiously, but Thorin snaps out of it when he realizes that they are currently quite vulnerable. Thorin turns back in time to see Gandalf pull a stick insect from the other's mouth and placing it in the other man's open hand. Thorin felt his own body shutter a little at the strangeness. From the looks of the rest of the company they could sympathize.

"Set up a perimeter," he barks. "Bifur, take up on those rocks. Gloin, keep your back to that boulder. Dwalin and I will keep watch along the ridge. All of you be on your guard."

The company immediately moves to do as their king commands without question, but the ranger doesn't move. Fili picks up his sword and lays it beside him, but doesn't move to wake him. Thorin has half a mind to, but when he sees the ranger breathing evenly he can't bring himself to do it. Kalar looks peaceful now, more than he had been some nights, and he has gone several days without sleeping as it is. Taking some pity on the poor boy Thorin allows him to continue sleeping. However, Thorin would never admit that it also made it much easier to watch him when he stayed in one place.

* * *

I have been trying to make myself as comfortable as possible on these rocks while there is a peaceful moment to be found. I know that if I do not catch up on my sleep I will become a liability for the group and I need to keep up my strength. I could only go on for so long before I would be in need of a reprieve.

For a brief while it works and I feel myself leaving the waking world. Then I sensed it, like the first flash of lightning during a storm. It's there one moment then gone, but as time goes on it becomes more frequent. It is something that keeps coming back and pulling at the back of my mind – not allowing for me to rest properly. Whatever it is it is coming straight for us…

I open my eyes to see the dwarves idling in the clearing with their weapons in hand while the two wizards stood away from the company talking in hushed tones. Maybe they could sense the dark force I am feeling…But why did there have to be another wizard? I really could do without anymore wizards in my life.

I see that my sword is beside me now and I'm thankful to whoever had picked it up. I think being tired made me act childishly, but I would apologize later. I reattach the sheath to my belt and approach the others. Everyone is tense so they barely spare me a glance.

The feeling that had been only flashes before now hung in the air like a thick cloud. I keep my own eye open as I make my way to Thorin, who is standing with Dwalin along a ridge. They are both whispering to one another, likely in Khuzdul, but I cannot hear. Thorin looks up at my approach and while he doesn't seem pleased his face also tightens in what I think is concern.

Something in the air sudden changes as though a chord had been struck and it makes my blood sing with a war cry. "We need to move. Now!" I say urgently. "Something much worse than a confused old man is making towards our position at a speed we cannot outrun unless we leave now."

"And what exactly is that?" asks Thorin, rather menacingly. I feel my teeth clench in frustration. Why does he have to question everything I say or do?

"I don't know," I huff with frustration. "But whatever it is it is fast and it will be here soon."

As if to answer me there is a howling in the distance; one that sounds as though something is being mangled. Thorin and the rest of the company tense in recognition of the noise. A shudder runs through me as I recall the long, cold nights with winds filled with those howls. I spent nearly a year listening to those calls and even now I'm still not used to it.

"Was that a wolf?" asks Bilbo. "Are there wolves out there?"

"If only…" I murmur.

"Wolves? No, that is not a wolf," says Bofur. The loud snapping of a twig behind him along with a low growl causes all to turn. A warg has snuck up along a back gulch and now crouches in preparation for attack. Before anyone can move the beast leaps at Dori without any provocation, but it doesn't get far as Thorin delivers an uppercut to the thing's head with his new elvish blade; effectively killing it. However, when I turn I see movement behind Thorin as another warg charges us from where Thorin and Dwalin had been keeping watch. So without any thought I draw my sword and use it like a large throwing knife. The blade enters the scavenger's open mouth and the momentum the warg has causes its body to slide gently to Thorin's feet. The beast surprises him as he hadn't seen the thing, but he looks up and gives me a nod when he does.

Because of this I didn't notice something hurtling at me as well until I check my peripheral. Another warg is heading straight for me, but I have very little time to react. My hand heads to my lower back wrapping around the stone hilt. There is a second where the temperature of the air drops in preparation of the magic I am about to use, but the warg is brought down before it can reach me by one of Kili's arrows. It stops the warg from moving forward, but it still lives and makes an attempt of reaching me until Dwalin brings his war hammer down on the thing's head. I retract my hand from the hilt, allowing for the atmosphere to return to normal. When Dwalin looks up to see if I'm alright, I give him a nod. Since what stopped it is the arrow, I turn to Kili for thanks as well.

"Thank you," I say.

He gives me a big smile and nods his head in my direction as I had done for Dwalin. I give him a small one in return, but my blood is still boiling too high for us to be safe yet.

"Warg scouts!" says Thorin as he removes his blade from the corpse. "Which means an Orc pack is not far behind." He turns and emits a grunt as he removes my blade from the body of the other warg.

"Orc pack?"asks the burglar. Despite that I know he is unaware of the dangers in the world, I cannot help rolling my eyes at him. My impatience with the hobbit lets me know that I am well and truly tired. The wizards, who had been occupied until this point, have suddenly made a reappearance. Gandalf approaches Thorin hastily, while the other watches me. I do my best to ignore him, but it's hard when the brown wizard stares at me so intently.

"Who did you tell about your quest? Beyond your kin?" asks the wizard loudly.

"None, but the ranger," says Thorin. His eyes flicker over to me. Looking me up and down then finally meeting my eyes. I can see that he is working his way to find fault in me and somehow find an answer to this problem. However, my ire flares and I cast a glare his way.

"You dare insinuate that I-"

The brown wizard suddenly fills my field of vision and I jump nearly a foot in the air at the quick change in proximity. He sticks a long finger in my face as he examines me, making peculiar motions with his finger. As if pointing at me will help him figure something out…

"Kalar would never betray us. Least of all to orcs," says Balin confidently. The rest of the company are watching the brown wizard now, but Gandalf ignores the exchange entirely.

"Who?!" demands Gandalf.

"No one else. I swear. What in Durin's name is going on?" asks Thorin.

"You are being hunted," replies Gandalf.

With my blood thrumming in my ears I know I should be keeping a look out for more wargs, but at the moment I can't stop watching the brown wizard. He seems to be watching me with acute interest and it leaves me unsettled. If I thought Gandalf had made me uneasy in his unyielding analysis of my person, it is nothing compared to the scrutiny of Radagast. Maybe it's because he is doing nothing to hide it…The way he had snuck up on me is a far cry from the loud man that had tumbled out of the bushes before. I can't let him out of my sight. Even after already putting a little distance between us he tries to approach me again. However, this time Fili and Kili, who had seen my distress in the wizard's presence, place themselves in front of me to deter his approach.

"Gandalf, who is this?" Radagast asks.

"We have to get out of here," says Dwalin, ignoring the wizard's question entirely.

"There is magic…All around you…His magic…" whispers the wizard.

"We can't," cries Ori as he comes over the ridge. "We have no ponies – they bolted!" Praise be for Ori because his statement seems draw the visiting wizard's attention from me.

"I'll draw them off," he says suddenly. Without any confirmation he starts moving towards his sleigh. I let out a small sigh of relief at the loss of the wizard's attentions.

"These are Gundabad wargs. They will outrun you," Gandalf retorts. These wargs are made for chasing prey throughout different terrain, but more importantly, they are bred to kill. Watching them at night in the shadows of Gundabad has given me respect for the beasts and the raw power they held over life and death. It's the orcs that I really hate…

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits," says Radagast confidently. "I'd like to see them try." I don't think there are creatures faster than Gundabad wargs, but if those rabbits could uphold the wizard's boast it would certainly be a wonder to behold.

"Very well," says Gandalf. "The rest of you stay close and follow me."

The brown wizard takes off first to get a head start with the rest of us moving swiftly in another direction. I am stopped momentarily in our mad sprint by a large hand that appears on my arm. Thorin extends his other hand to me so that I may take my sword back from him. His expression in those few seconds is entirely unreadable to me.

"You will be in need of this," he says. "Kili and Dwalin will not always be there to help you. So do not throw it next time." Before I can even form a reply he is sprinting to catch up with the others. I sheathe my sword and continue much like Thorin to catch up to the others, but I can't help wondering what Thorin meant. Why would he say something like that?

* * *

 **Again sorry for the super late update. I hope you will all bear with me for a while longer. Life is just rocking my boat as it were. Anyway I read somewhere, likely Dwarf Scholar, that dwarves reach the age of maturity at 40, but aren't actual adults until they reach like 70 I think. Anyway I thought it would be really funny to have this scenario play out if for nothing than to torture Thorin a little bit.**

 **Thank you for reading and sticking with me! I will be faster next time! I promise!**


	10. Race Against Gundabad

**Hey everyone. Late at night, but on time. Also this one will be a little shorter, but the next couple of chapters will make up for it I promise! Mostly action here today!**

 **Tollandm, 0x0UnderDog0x0, and angel897 –** _Here is the next part for your reading pleasure._

 **TheRealMerlin(Guest)** – _Thank you for the kind words! I do love and admire Gandalf, but he really is a meddling wizard and sometimes he has to realize that not everyone is as forgiving as Bilbo._

 **QueefCream** – _Special hint just for you about the reveal. It will cause the rating to go up because I'm paranoid, but there are no sexy times yet. Send me your thoughts. ;)_

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She's starting up her second part and she has my permissions to use Imelkane and Tahna in her story as sort of an AU thingy! (I'm dealing with plagiarism stuff right now so bare with me as I do not have a proper frame of mind and want to make sure people have permission!).**

* * *

A chorus of howls drifts from the tree line when the rest of the pack found their fallen brothers where we had slain them. Luckily for us there are patches of boulders along the open fields. It will be enough for now so long as Radagast can keep them off of our trail. With our troop now well aware of the orc's presence we are now very much a threat to them; and like the cowards they are, they wait just outside the tree line while more scouts are sent in. When we hear the hunting horn, signaling the chase of Radagast, and we start to move again.

We move as nimbly as a gaggle of dwarves can in this situation. Despite that, the pace is demanding, but not impossible. The hobbit is even managing to keep up as we move hurriedly from rock to rock. However, I curse and groan every time we leave the security of a boulder because I fear that those moments in the open will cause us to be spotted. Our company is fairly well camouflaged in the grassland's patchy environment. And even if we stop nothing running past would likely see us, but I still hate being so exposed.

I momentarily think that this is actually easier than if we had ponies. It is likely that when the ponies bolted, Wildwind would have herded the ponies to a more safe location. As is her place as a descendant of Mearas. I don't fret for long knowing that she is likely safe with the ponies, but I hope that I will see her again soon.

At first everything seems to be going well, despite my fears, and then I start to hear the wargs coming closer. Radagast is unintentionally leading the wargs towards us. When Thorin sees the Brown wizard he stops, bringing all of us to a jerky halt when he stops moving. Shortly behind him, we can see the mass of wargs and orcs chasing the old man.

"Stay together," says Gandalf as he turns around completely and starts running again in a new direction. The rest of the company follows his example. This area is even more exposed than the last and I find myself becoming agitated. I start to think that it might be best if I just hang back and kill the creatures. At least then I wouldn't have to waste what little energy I have on running.

I am able to keep up with the company and even find myself beside Thorin at some point. When we reach the end of a large jutting rock, Thorin stops suddenly. I follow his lead and Dori accidentally bumps into me, but I don't mind. It's when Ori sprints past me in hopes of continuing forward that I panic. Luckily, Thorin reacts faster than I do.

"Ori! No!" says Thorin as he grabs the back of Ori's tunic and yanks him back. Since Thorin isn't paying attention he ends up throwing the scribe my way. I have to catch him, which I do, much to his brother's appreciation. We only have time to exchange a quick nod because before we know it we are off again.

This time though it is Gandalf's signal that gets us moving again. Maybe he has managed to figure out Radagast's random patterns or he's leading us somewhere; I am not a huge fan of the latter, but I will take what I can get right now. We are finally getting some momentum when the wargs cut in front of us again. I curse all wizards from this day forth.

We take another slight reprieve from our pursuers behind a much lower stone than the previous have been. I hear the claws on the stone before the others notice over their heavy breathing. Dwarves aren't bad sprinters when the need arose, but they are not made to last for long. They have stamina in the forge not on the open plains. Quickly I sign for them all to be quiet lest they speak out and attract attention of the orc above. Thorin looks up and he can see the rider searching for us. He looks momentarily at me, but I can't come up with anything. If I had my bow I would take them out easily. So my eyes shift to Kili. If he can be quick, we may make it out of this undetected. As if reading my thoughts, he calmly looks back behind him at his nephew and nods to the bow in his hands before meeting his eyes.

I see Kili take an arrow from his quiver and breathe deeply, in hopes easing some of his tension. He moves away from the rock and takes aim. When the orc finally notices him it is too late and Kili's arrow is imbedded deep in the warg's shoulder joint. Despite the fall that the warg and rider endure, they both manage to get back up. Bombur and Gloin disarm the lone orc in time for Thorin and Bifur to come in for a fatal wounding to the head. I thought no one saw the warg trying to reach Balin with its jaws. So when I bring my sword down on its head I'm surprised when Dwalin also brings his war hammer down on the scavenger's neck. As the neck breaks, blood rushes out of the wound I had made and effectively sprays me. I glare up at him and gives me a brief apologetic look, but neither of us have the opportunity to comment.

A cacophony of loud, angry howls fill the air and it is now obvious that our attempt at stealth has failed. I chuckle a little at the irony. I had been worrying all this time that we were going to be caught out in the open, but we are discovered while we are hiding; just great. Now we really have to run…or at least try to run. Gandalf's statement about Gundabad wargs is certainly true and they would easily run us down. Even on ponies we would have barely stood a chance, but even then only some of us would make it. With every moment that passes I find myself more and more tempted to just stop and face the wargs head on.

However, as I see the dwarves becoming scattered among the rolling ridges looking for a way out. I decide to keep my focus on keeping them alive instead. The ridges work as a light camouflage, to prevent anyone on the other side from seeing us. But now it is only a matter of time.

"There they are," says Gloin as he points ahead of us.

"This way," says Gandalf as he navigates us in another direction. There is nothing in the horizon of the direction Gandalf has pointed us to, but as time progresses so to do the number of wargs. Hopefully we can squeeze past one of the smaller groups. With my magic it would be easy… It will most certainly come in handy seeing as how the everyone is starting to tire and it won't be long before they try to box us in.

What I don't realize is that we are already boxed in. At least not until Kili and the others start calling out that they could see wargs approaching from different locations. The dwarves fan out into a circular pattern on instinct.

"We're surrounded!" shouts Fili.

Kili starts drawing his arrows and firing at the wargs that got close enough to the group. The circular pattern holds around a large stone where we had last seen Gandalf. While most fall back slightly, Kili remains the farthest from the company so that he can stop more wargs and orcs from reaching the group.

It's an easy decision to stay beside Kili even though we are farther from the rest of the group. My protectiveness is rising and I realize just how much Kili and his brother have to make it through this journey regardless of success; I couldn't allow myself to think otherwise. I draw my new sword in hopes of protecting the young prince. I notice now that my blade is glowing a bright blue color, something that supposedly happens to elf blades when orcs or goblins are near. However, where the strange patches cover the blade it glows an orange color rather than blue. I'm really wishing I hadn't lost my temper the other night and thrown my bow; it would really come in handy right now.

"Hold your ground," yells Thorin as the pack starts closing in. A howl of victory begins to rise from the vile mass as they start trapping their prey.

"This way you fools," yells Gandalf. I only glance out of the corner of my eye at the wizard lurking between two rocks in the circle we created. In between shots I gently start tugging Kili back towards the others while still watching his back. However, our progress is slower than I would like.

"Come on," yells Thorin. "Quickly all of you!" The circle breaks and the dwarves take to the hidden shelter, which Gandalf has revealed among the rocks. Thorin guards the entrance in case the enemy tries to follow them into the cavern. Once realizing their prey is escaping a couple riderless wargs tried to do just that, but Thorin's quick and steady hand keep them from their goal.

Kili and I are almost back to the others when Thorin calls for us. Kili looks around to see that we are the last on the field. I take his bow and start pushing him towards the entrance as I jog backwards to keep up with him and his quiver of arrows. We are starting to run low and he has used all of the ones I have given him after I broke my bow.

When we reach the opening I force the bow back into Kili's hands and he disappears down the hole. Thorin tries to push me in after his nephew, but I also grab him, unwilling to leave him behind me even for a moment. We slide down into our second cave for today, this one at least smelling much more pleasant. At the bottom of the slope Thorin gives me an angry look clearly telling me that doesn't appreciate the gesture. We break eye contact when we hear a horn back up above us. The dwarves and I tense in fear of what is to come; I do not recognize that horn, but it isn't the orcs and not knowing terrifies me plenty. After a few heartbeats, all we can hear is the sound of the dying whimpers of wargs until an orc came tumbling down the entrance of the tunnel.

When it stops rolling I come to realize that there is an arrow in its neck and is more than likely dead. Though that didn't stop the wizard from giving it a testing jab with his staff. Thorin also sees the arrow and pulls it out in hopes of identifying our saviors from the arrow tip.

"Elves," says Thorin plainly though he tosses the arrow like it had burned him. He looks up at the wizard accusatorily and I just find myself thankful not to be on the receiving end of the stare. A hand on my shoulder throws me off momentarily and I turn my head around to see Fili who has his other hand wrapped around his younger brother.

"Thank you, Kalar. For keeping my brother safe. I didn't realize he was so far away," he says. "Kili may be a great archer, but he's not invincible. And he's reckless…"

"I'm right here you know," grumbles Kili. He is clearly not used to such hard running as he is panting to recover his breath; his face is pale from nearing hyperventilation. However, Kili is slowly working on making his breathes deeper. Looking at him I can't help, but feel pride at how he had handled himself out there. Despite being so young, he is a good shot and a good warrior. I know quite well that he is trying to prove himself to the members of this company, but he doesn't have to; at least, not to me.

"I do not think I did all the protecting. We make a decent team don't we, Kili?" I respond.

The smile on his face looks like it could split his face in two if it became much wider, but it is the only way he can smile and breathe at the same time. I find myself retuning his smile and sharing it with his brother. Soon all of us look like idiots just staring at each other, smiling. However, the moment is broken by Dwalin when he comes jogging back to our group; apparently he had gone to scout ahead without us noticing.

"I can't see where the path leads," he growls in frustration. "Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it of course," says Bofur immediately. Bofur is very eager to be away from the orcs and elves, which is a feeling that is shared by the rest of the company. Because of this the others are quick to follow and blaze down the stone pathway. I fall in step behind Kili, who is at the back of the line. Thorin rushes past us, eager to be closer to the front and as he passes us he gives his nephews a brief touch on their shoulders. It puts another small smile on my face.

Gandalf mumbles something behind us, but we don't really pay attention. We move single file through the small canyon. While enough light streams from the opening at the top, it is too small for anything to attack us from above.

The crevasse we travel through is fairly narrow and appears to have been carved only by the elements. However, I notice something familiar in the weight of the air. Elvish magic…I pull my mask from my pack out of instinct and put it on my face in hopes of countering whatever is in the air. I am lucky that Kili had handed it back to me rather than storing it with my belongings in Wildwind's saddle. It gets stronger as we move forward, but nothing worthy of worrying yet. If elves wanted us gone their magic would have reflected that. I can only imagine what Thorin is going to say at the end of this.

Half an hour later we finally emerge from the rocks and are greeted, for some of us, with a beautiful sight. We have entered the Hidden Valley, Imladris, or Rivendell. The valley is beautiful in the summertime sun; many trees are orange and yellow as if giving away to an early Fall. The elvish architecture spills out over the valley stones and the waterfalls scattered throughout the valley made the magic in the air pulse as if to the beat of some unseen heart. The cliffs surrounding the small sanctuary are mostly white, giving the place a vague sense of purity.

"The Valley of Imladris," states Gandalf loudly. "In the common tongue it is known by another name…"

"Rivendell," breathes Bilbo. I look down and examine him and wondering how he could possibly know such a thing off the tip of his tongue. Hobbits are not exactly known for their knowledge of the world beyond the Shire.

"This is the Last Homely House east of the sea," says Gandalf.

Thorin turns and leans back in Gandalf's direction with his axe in hand. "This was your plan all along," Oh…he's not happy at all, "To seek refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will in this valley is that which you bring yourself," replies Gandalf.

"You think the elves will give our quest their blessing?" asks Thorin with venom dripping in his voice. "They will try to stop us."

"Of course they will, but we have questions that need to be answered," says Gandalf calmly.

'Of course they will!' I think. It's official; wizards are my most hated race in all of Arda. How stupid can he be? He is sending us straight into the arms of people that would hinder all of our progress... At first my ire is simmering at the stupidity of the wizard, but as I watch Thorin back down from the wizard's cool logic – it shoots sky high. The look on Thorin's face, as if he is some shamed child aggravates me in the worst way. He has done nothing wrong and his hatred for the elves is not unfounded. Thorin has proper reasoning to be mad – the wizard had tricked him! He had no right to make Thorin feel as though he is in the wrong!

"If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me," finishes Gandalf as he starts down the stone pathway.

"Arrogant ass," I grumble under my breath. However, with my mask back in place none heard. As we begin our trek down the hillside I work the silencer out of my mask. Prying a layer open with my knife I slip the silencer out of my mask. I slip the multilayered piece of cloth into my tunic despite the struggle. After all, my chest plate is rather…crowded.

"Watcha put that on fer?" asks Nori with nervous laughter. "'fraid you're gonna scare the elf maids?"

"No. The mask has another purpose," I answer.

Thorin, who overhears the comment, turns and asks lowly, "And what is this purpose?"

"I took dark metal ore and had it forged in Lothlorien. I had magic placed upon it to repel all magic," I reply earnestly, "even the magic of elves."

"That'll come in handy," grunts Dwalin in approval.

"I trust nothing made by elves," adds Thorin. "For all we know that mask is cursed."

"I will remind you, my king," I add the moniker to ensure his attention, "That your elvish blade fared well in battle today." He grumbles something unintelligible, but doesn't spurn me outright. "Besides it is blood magic. My blood cooled the metal after it had been forged and therefore only affects me."

Thorin ignores me as he continues to trudge on ahead with the wizard. Balin, who has been worn down from all the sprinting we did earlier, fell in beside me as we walk down with Fili and Kili whispering in Khuzdul behind us.

"Where did you come up with the idea to make that, lad?" asks Balin.

"I came up with it after my last trip to the Greenwood," I say. Many faces turn to look at me and Thorin's muscles in his back tense, but no one says anything.

"Dwarves have not been to the Woodland Realm in quite some time. How long has it been since this last visit?"

"Little over a decade," I state softly. I would rather not talk about it.

"And how did it seem? The forest, I mean," he adds. He seems adamant about this though I can't imagine why.

"Personally, I would rather walk through the Black Gates of Mordor than go near that place again," I say.

The cheerful look on Balin's face disappears at my proclamation. I feel a little bad for giving him such news that would cause his face to fall, but it is far better to give him the truth; no matter how hard it is. The state of the Greenwood is deplorable at best and malignant tumor at worst. The Elvenking has little love for the people of Middle Earth outside his kingdom and because of this his kingdom suffers.

I had always thought elves were either strong, for learning to move on after their loved ones, or weak, when they began to fade. Even now I am stuck in between those thoughts at times, but I consider Thranduil a contender in both arenas. He is strong for continuing forward after the passing of the queen, but he is too weak to rule properly. His heart and soul lives on, encased in ice and removed from the world. I think of the stone hilt resting at my back when I think of the comparison; it is rather fitting.

The company falls into silence as we cross a stone bridge at the end of the path. The bridge leads to a large open dais, with each side of the entrance being guarded by stone elves. While everything here is a little too open for my taste, it is extremely beautiful. I look back and see the hobbit spinning in circles, trying to take everything in as he marvels the valley. I feel a smile pass over my face because of how endearing he looks.

"Mithrandir!"

I turn to look up at the caller to a see a dark haired elf dressed in dark robes with equally dark eyes as he greeted Gandalf. While he isn't intimidating, I have a hard time letting him leave my sight. I think my lack of sleep has made me paranoid, as I expect him to suddenly know everything about the quest.

"Ah! Lindir!" returns Gandalf as he approaches the elf.

From the corner of my eye I see Thorin whisper something to Dwalin and he watches the newcomer anxiously. I can't help feeling the same…

"Lastannemi athrannedhi Vruinen," says Lindir. I feel my body tense and when I do it causes the dwarves to follow my actions. I can feel Thorin's eyes on me, but I continue to keep an eye on the dark haired elf. How did he know Gandalf was in the valley? Galadriel, I could understand, but I have a feeling that the elves were given forewarning of the company's arrival here. Curse all wizards!

"I must speak with Lord Elrond," says Gandalf plainly.

"My Lord Elrond is not here," he replies equally as plain.

"Not here?" inquires Gandalf. "Where is he?"

At that moment, horns erupt to life behind us. It takes all I have not to draw my sword as I whip around to see a regiment of fully armed elves on horseback. Instead of my sword, I launch forward to grab Bilbo who is still in a daze and pull him back into the dwarves for protection. They had already begun to form a familiar circle so I easily step in between Fili and Balin in the circle.

"Ifridi bekar! Close ranks!" calls Thorin as he and Dwalin take up their positions in the circle. As the words are spoken the circle tightens, leaving no room for anyone to break through.

The horses enter the dais and start circling the company like vultures to prey. I stood in a somewhat crouched position, trying to coil myself in like a snake. If these elves thought they could intimidate me then they are sorely mistaken. After the third time they completed their circle around our group, I'm starting to get annoyed. Even when they came to a halt in a semi-circle behind us I'm still on edge. What a way to welcome guests.

"Gandalf!" says another dark haired elf nears the steps. This one in my opinion is hardly any different from the rest. The only superficial sign that there is a difference is the dark bronze armor he wears. It's more intricate than the rest.

"Lord Elrond," say Gandalf kindly. "Mellonen! Mo evinedh?"

The elf, I'm assuming is Lord Elrond, steps down off his horse and approaches the Grey Wizard.

"Farannem 'lamhoth i udul o cherad. Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui," says Elrond as he gives Gandalf a hug.

As he pulls away, Elrond goes to Lindir and hands him an orcish blade. "Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or someone has drawn them near."

"Ah! That may have been us," says Gandalf apologetically.

As if sensing that it is time for introductions, Thorin steps forward and so does Lord Elrond.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain," he says.

"I do not believe we have met," says Thorin in a very clipped and borderline rude tone.

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain," Elrond responds. While I may not know all there is to know about dwarves, it is obvious that Elrond has just crossed an invisible line by bringing up Thorin's grandfather.

"Indeed. He made no mention of you," Thorin responds in kind. I smirk a little behind the mask at Thorin's blatant rudeness. Lord Elrond's mood shifts, but not outwardly so; it's only in his eyes.

"Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annem vann a nethail vin," says Lord Elrond. While Thorin leans away, back into a more open position, it is clear that Elrond's switch to Sindarin irritates him.

"What is he sayin'? Does he offer us insult?" asks Gloin as angry cries rise up from the company. So that's Lord Elrond's game. Relying on the company's in ability to understand Sindarin. Unfortunately, for the elves I'm happy to translate. I open my mouth to speak, but I am beaten there by Gandalf.

"No, Master Gloin," he says in hopes of stopping a fight before it broke out. "He's offering you food."

Despite that it is obvious we aren't leaving Rivendell this day, the dwarves aren't going to let the elves think they are completely in charge and they turn into one another to "debate" about the food. After a quick moment they pull away.

"Ah. Well in that case…Lead on!" says Gloin rather enthusiastically. Apparently they are quite ready for some food, but I would much rather sleep.

* * *

 **Translations:**

Lastannemi athrannedhi Vruinen - We heard you had crossed into the Valley.  
Ifridi bekar! - Ready weapons!  
Mellonen! Mo evinedh? - My friend! Where have you been?  
Farannem 'lamhoth i udul o cherad. Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui - We've been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the South. We slew a number near the Last Bridge.  
Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annem vann a nethail vin - Light the fires, bring forth the wine. We must feed our guests.

 **Again sorry for the shortness, but the next few make up for it in goodness. I want you to start a countdown with me. I have…two chapters before the reveal and then the third one I post will be the reveal. I hope you will all be patient with me, but also excited!**

 **Also brace yourselves as next time you will bear witness to my god awful Sindarin translations for conversations. If any reader is a Sindarin translator, please help me fix them. I can only do so much…Any way thank you for reading and sticking with me! I will be faster see you next Sunday!**


	11. Dinner Guests

**Woohoo! Alright everyone we are entering the last of the disguise chapters. I literally just finished handwriting the part where her gender is revealed and I am having way too much fun with it right now. Also beware, I did my best to translate the Sindarin, but it may not have come out right. Again if it annoys anyone send me the proper translation and I will put them in and give you credit (however my computer doesn't do all of those neat little pronunciation marks so role with what I got).**

 **angel897, CalistaJade42149, and shishiwastaken –** _Here is the next part for you!_

 **0x0UnderDog0x0 –** _I'm glad you liked that idea. I thought it would come in handy later and it helps develop her back story a little more._

 **QueefCream** – _The dislike of elves stems more from her dislike of their magic than of the elves themselves. She actually likes some elves. As you will see because you know that thing we talked about earlier. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Well here is the start of it._

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She's starting up her second part and SHE HAS A LITTLE BABY GIRL NAMED ROWAN IN IT AND SHE IS ADORABLE! (I'm sorry for the sudden burst of baby fever coming out)**

* * *

We are first taken to our guest quarters to lay down our remaining packs and weapons. The latter received grumbles of displeasure from the dwarves, but as Gandalf said we would not get anywhere if we didn't use tact and show a little respect. If bringing a sword to your host's table didn't show distrust, I don't know what would be a clearer sign. The only exceptions to this rule are the three elvish blades we acquired from the troll hoard. Apparently, Gandalf thinks that Lord Elrond might know more of their origins and that they would be a good way to get on the elf lord's good side.

We are given separate chambers in the guest quarters with a single large antechamber, but no one is willing to separate themselves from the group under the watchful eyes of the elves. With the heavy feeling of magic in the air, I follow the example of my companions and leave my belongings to one side of the antechamber. The elves try to reason with us and have us sleep apart from one another, are sorely put out. Despite that I have nothing against these elves, I find myself smirking a little at their obvious obstinacy.

Before we head to dinner the company gathers collectively in a large washroom in hopes of cleaning up before dinner. I find myself quite thankful to wash off the warg blood Dwalin had accidentally sprayed across my face. I must have looked quite sinister to the elves at the dais. As I look around I can see the dwarves washing their faces and taking the time to clean their hair. Dori is trying to redo both of his younger brothers' braids and Fili is meticulously braiding his mustache. Bilbo, who is further down the line, cleans his hands and feet as thoroughly as he does his face. I smile at seeing them all doing something so domestic; whoever had told me dwarves are unhygienic in the camps would get an earful the next time I see them. I grimace slightly when I remember I'm not welcome into the camps anymore. When my face is clean I slip my mask back on, unwilling to leave myself to the vulnerability of elven enchantments any longer than I have to.

The elves offered to take my clothes and clean them as well, but I refused. Mostly because I am comfortable in my clothes regardless of their state, but it would also mean they would have to be replaced with elven clothes. The clothes of a male elf wouldn't suffice in keeping my feminine image a secret and I could only imagine the uproar from the elves if they discovered I am female. The propriety of the elves would have them lecturing the Company to the end of days. So I politely decline their offer and went down to dinner without my gauntlets and, regrettably, my mask. I hate the idea of going down with no mask, but I wouldn't be able to eat with it so I would just have to sit through the dinner, defenseless. Despite leaving our weapons, I kept my cloak allowing me to hide my hilts. So maybe we aren't completely defenseless…

Thorin had been taken to meet with Lord Elrond before the dinner for some reason. I cannot imagine they are discussing the matter of our quest so I can only guess it has to do with nobility and politics. Therefore, we arrive to the dinner table before both our leader and our host. Dinner is set at two stone tables on yet another dais. This time it is accompanied with a beautiful view of the valley as the sun begins its westward journey. There is a wooden table beside the stone ones and if the ornate decoration of the chairs is anything to go by, that would be the high table.

The company takes their seats and look at the meal in silent horror. Nearly everything at the table is vegetables and fruits. I already plan in partaking of the strawberries and watermelon on the table, but the leafy salads leave much to be desired. I have never understood how the elves of the West could stand meatless meals. It's like they thrived off of bland things…

After sitting down, Ori is the first to pick up a leaf of lettuce and spent a few moments examining it. In the meanwhile, Dori starts pouring everyone some wine. Thankfully, the serving elves had just brought rolls and pastries to each table in hopes sating the dwarves. I see Bombur hoarding the rolls on his enormous belly and find myself thankful to not be near him because I do not have the energy to fight the dwarf for food tonight. When I look across the table from me I see Kili taking to the elvish wine rather impatiently. My eyes widen a little at his enthusiasm. Elvish wine, while sweet, needed time to be drunk unless the intent is to be muddled quickly. Something tells me Kili doesn't understand just how potent that may be…

Dori, now having noticed his youngest brother's hesitancy to eat, tried to reason with him, "Try it; Just a mouthful." After a long day of fighting and running as we have just experienced, leaves us in need of energy, little Ori included. We couldn't afford to be picky about the food we have been given. However, it didn't escape my notice that Dori and every other dwarf hasn't put the leafy greens anywhere near their mouths either. 'Little hypocrite,' I smirk.

Beside me I hear some shuffling and clatter of wares. When I look over, I see Dwalin sifting through his salad wearing a thunderous expression. "Where's the meat?" he asks as he looks at each of us at the table. He must think this some cruel joke. I stop myself from laughing out loud by looking away and digging through the small satchel I still have on my person. After fishing around, I find the small morsel of dried meat I had been nibbling on before the trolls had appeared. I nudge his shoulder and he looks at me grumpily until he notices the meat I'm holding out to him. He wraps his large fingers around it and gives me an appreciative nod.

"Got anymore of that, lad?" asks Bofur, who had seen the exchange. I glance over my shoulder at the elves that are still setting down platters. I watch them with suspicion and decide to give them a taste of their lord's medicine. Dwalin, while unaware of my schemes, did not miss the look I had given.

 **No. Sorry, my friend.**

Bofur is quiet for a moment, but one look at Dwalin and he decides to clam up. "Alright then, lad. Just thought I would ask."

My eyes shift from Bofur, who returns to his conversation with his cousin, to Dwalin for a small nod of thanks. Once it is returned my eyes land on Kili, who has a rather dopey look on his face. It would seem the elvish wine has only just begun its work on him. At first I think he is staring at me with that dreamy look on his face. A small blush spreads throughout my cheeks, which I attempt to cover with my hand. I try to express my confusion by raising an eyebrow at the young prince. He then produces a rather half-hearted wink and my pulse suddenly soars. He can't know! Can he?! I mean…what would have tipped him off? I was sure Thorin would be the first to discover my secret! How did Kili…?

Kili's eyes break away and look at Dwalin beside me, who is giving the boy a particular look. As if righting himself, Kili suddenly clears his throat, "I can't say I fancy elf maids myself; too thin…" Elf maids? I turn my head to look behind me and sure enough there is beautiful young elf girl plucking at the strings of a harp. The melody itself it very soft and reflective, causing me to stare as if entranced. When her dark eyes move from Kili to me we share a quiet moment, but I break my eyes away when the maid flushes under my stare. I flinch as another elf maid flashes to the front of my mind and I grip my hands tightly under the table. 'Damned elvish magic,' I think as I look up at Kili in time for his last comment, though.

"Although that one there's not bad," says as he looks behind himself at a lyre player. When I look up to examine the elf in question I strangle the guffaw of laughter threatening to spill out of my mouth. As it is I place the stone table in a death grip as I use it to keep the giggles down in my gullet.

"That's not an elf maid," whispers Dwalin conspiratorially. When the elf turns Kili can see that Dwalin has spoken true. Dwalin gives him a wink and the rest of the company starts laughing at Kili's expense, even me. I know it probably isn't kind, but I couldn't really help myself, it is just too funny. I knew from his determination, that Kili wouldn't be ready for affects of the elvish wine, but what could I do? I'm not his mother. Still, I end up choking on my laughter, allowing a couple strangled noises to escape, but the good natured laughs of the company cover up my noise. I have to bow my head and bang my fist on the cold table to prevent anything more from escaping.

After a moment the young prince still looks embarrassed, his face very red, and grumbles, "That's funny." I manage to calm myself and find I am relieved that Kili hasn't discovered my secret. Not that it would be a bad thing, but I didn't want to deal with this in Rivendell. He is now suffering from the affects of elvish wine; poor Kili, once again becoming the butt of the joke. However, I have never felt more secure in regards to my secret around the young heir until now. I don't think he will ever know unless I tell him blatantly…

The elvish minstrels pick up their pace suddenly and it is then that I notice Elrond, Gandalf, and Thorin walk out onto the dais. They settle themselves at the wooden table behind us. Despite, that my eyes are initially following Thorin, they end up straying to Oin who is shoving a napkin down his trumpet in hopes of muffling the female flute player behind him. I find myself smiling at the antics before returning my gaze to the High Table. I watch closely as Thorin hands over the elf blade he took from the hoard to Lord Elrond.

"This is Orcrist – The Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade forged by the High Elves of the West; my kin," he adds the last part to remind Thorin he has no relation to the elves further east.

"May it serve you well," Lord Elrond states. I'm sure Thorin would have kept it with or without Lord Elrond's blessing. The thought of an altercation between the two over who would keep the sword amuses me far more than it should. Thorin graces him with a nod, nonetheless, and moves on to Gandalf's blade.

"And this is Glamdring – The Foehammer. Sword of the King of Gondolin," he says with much enthusiasm. "These swords were made for the Goblin War in the First Age. How did you come by these?"

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road," says Gandalf. At this I find myself glaring at the wizard. He's giving us away on purpose. Lord Elrond would know why Thorin Oakenshield is on a journey east. Gandalf already knows that they will stop us, but he almost seems intent on getting us caught. "Shortly before we were ambushed by Orcs," he adds.

Elrond overlooks the bait about the orcs, "And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" There is a tension that settles at the high table and for those listening in on the conversation, like me. However, Gandalf swiftly diverts the topic once more.

"An interesting tale for later in the evening perhaps. We have another blade for you to examine. Kalar," says the wizard, "do you have the other blade?"

I detest how the wizard uses me to escape the elf's analysis of our purpose, but I too do not want to answer to the elf of yet. So I turn in my seat and rise. I meet the dark eyes of the elf and they widen in surprise. I recognize the wisdom and kindness behind them, which eases a little of my anxieties. It helps to know that one's host isn't as cold hearted as The Elvenking, but in my eyes he still has that unearthly air about him. The magic that surrounds his being is gentle, but still too great for me to relax. So I do not break eye contact as I hand him the hilt of the sword.

"I was unaware that I also play host to a son of Imelkane. Your people were of great help during the Last Alliance. Without their help we wouldn't have been able to hold the Northern or Eastern borders of Rhovanion. I have not seen one of your kind in a long time," says Elrond contemplatively. He had bowed his head in recognition of my clan; it's only fair I do the same.

"That's because they are dead," I say with my nod. The tension that settles in the silence that follows is nearly palpable. I hold my gaze with the elf in hopes of showing my discomfort and distrust. His hand cups his chin as he examines me like a puzzle.

"My condolences," is all he can muster. It is not enough for the tragedy my people suffered, but when I think about it, he can say nothing else. There are no words for survivors of slaughter. Maybe that is why I feel so close to these dwarves…we don't necessarily need words…

"He was Thorin's choice to bring with the Company," pipes up Gandalf. A growl lodges in my throat. He sounds like he's making an excuse for my presence and blaming Thorin all in one statement.

"You are welcome here always, child," says Lord Elrond as he removes the blade from my grasp. I give him a nod of acknowledgement, but nothing more.

"He is hardly a child," says Thorin. "He is the one who slew the trolls." I hope my shock is apparent with my tense shoulders and open stare. Did Thorin just praise me? It would make sense since Gandalf clearly stated that I was Thorin's choice of companion. I thought the first time had been a fluke, but this was more than I had anticipated. My dramatics do not go unnoticed as Thorin stares back at me with an eyebrow raised surely he is not questioning my surprise. What in his nature makes him think handing out such comments a common occurrence?

"Sen alpulno!"

Our stare is broken by Lord Elrond's outburst. He is looking over the sword several times from pommel to tip. Gandalf puts down the grapes he had been nibbling on as he responds to Elrond's sudden exclamation.

"What is it? What is the matter?" asks Gandalf concernedly.

"The blade was forged during the War of Wrath at the End of the First Age," says Lord Elrond. "Most of the swords from that war were either lost or shattered. To see any blade, let alone this one, is a miracle to say the least. Now I can see that the stories were true…"

The amazement in the elf Lord's eyes dissipates and as it is suddenly replaced with a hard, cold look. His eyes lock with mine and I can see that he is trying to piece together some sort of puzzle. Thorin opens his mouth to say something, but Lord Elrond abruptly cuts him off.

"What is your final destination? Where is it you intend to reach along the Great East Road?" asks the half-elven. His eyes watch Thorin now, reading every line that hardens on the dwarf's face. Thorin, unwilling to remain under Elrond's scrutiny, stands and leaves the high table. He takes up a spot a short distance away and pulls a flask out of his pocket.

"We can discuss this matter further this evening. We plan to travel no where this eve. However, my friend you still have yet to tell us of this blade that fascinates you so," says Gandalf. He is trying to divert the conversation yet again, but Elrond's answer is hardly a remedy.

"It is called, Locelnehtar."

My body clenches at the name. The blade itself has no real meaning to me as it was merely circumstance we happened upon it; however, the name is not lost on me. It is a dead giveaway if ever there was one. I see now that I should have refused Dwalin back at the cave and found another blade. Gandalf also widens his eyes at the title bestowed to the elvish steel, but his eyes also shift to me. I lock eyes with him and shrug my shoulders to communicate that I had no clue about the blade's origin. The exchange is not missed.

"What does that mean, Gandalf?" asks little Ori. He is ignoring his brother's attempts to make him eat once more and uses our conversation as an escape route. It is also likely that he would write this down later in the journal he kept. He had been writing of the company's adventures, apparently since the night in Bag End when they had collected their hobbit. I read of the events that had occurred in Bag End and found myself quite disappointed I missed it. I cannot deny though that this coincidence is certainly one for the historical papers…

"Locelnehtar," says Gandalf, "is a Quenyan title, indicating that it was forged by the elves of Valinor when they returned to do battle in the War of Wrath. The name…directly translates into 'Slayer of Dragons'."

At this the chatter of the dwarves dies and the only sound in the air is the muted music from the elvish minstrels. I know they watch me as I look at the blade once more in the light of the setting sun. I can't believe that this sword killed a dragon, it seems far too small for anything of that nature, but I cannot explain away those stains. Elvish steel shouldn't turn the bronze color I see reflecting in the dying daylight…

"The blade is stained with the blood of Langos the Fierce, a descendant of Ancalgon the Black. It is the only blade in Middle Earth supposed to have slain a dragon," says Lord Elrond.

"Langos the Fierce?" asks Ori.

"Quite right, Master Ori. He killed thousands before he was slain by the high elves. Sad to say that his progeny survived. One of which was Smaug," says Gandalf curtly. Oh for the love Arda, could he make matters any worse?

The elvish lord hands the blade back to me hilt first, watching my movements carefully. However, unable to stand the tension in the room, I quickly sheath the damn thing so that it may dissipate. I do give Elrond a nod of thanks for his information as well as giving me back the sword; I honestly thought I wouldn't be getting it back. Despite the staring I feel at my back, the most brazen stare comes from the dwarf lord standing off to the side of the high table. I glance up briefly, but the gentle and searching look in his eyes is too much for me to bear. It is so unlike him and too intimate to allow myself to look back without staring. So I keep my head downcast as I return to my place beside Dwalin. I wish the company would stop staring; the whole thing is nothing more than a coincidence. Thank Mahal for Nori, for he seems to sense my discomfort and does his best to change the atmosphere.

"Change the tune why don't ya? I feel like I'm at a funeral," he says as he wiggles a finger in his ear. I shoot him a small smile of thanks. Not only is he saving me from the stares of the others, but he is also beating Elrond to the punch before he can ask anything more.

"Did somebody die?" asks Oin who still can't hear properly past the napkin shoved in his hearing horn. How did he even hear what just happened? Selective hearing, I guess.

"Alright lads, there's only one thing for it," says Bofur. He readily pushing himself upward until his feet meet the tabletop, knocking over several mealtime implements along his way. At first I'm confused as to what he is doing, so I look to the others for an answer and within seconds I have one.

" _There's an inn; there's an inn, there's a merry old inn…_ "

The other dwarves begin to stomp their feet and pound their fists to the rhythm of the song. I quickly find myself smiling and enjoying their merriment. I have heard this song before in many a tavern, and while it is wholly out of place in Rivendell, I find the change welcome; anything that breaks the heavy elvish magic in the air is alright with me. However, only three lines in I am forced to dodge a well aimed roll from Fili. We are sitting diagonally from each other at the table and he is giving me a rather impish look. I feel a large smile overwhelm my face and I glance over my side of the table to find nothing worthy of a projectile. So for now I just watch him and his brother cautiously with a wide grin.

" _And up and down he saws his bow…_ "

Eventually, my eyes flicker to Bofur's dancing and then past him to Thorin who is tapping his foot in time with the chorus. His eyes watch our cheerful companion dance along the stone surface. In that moment, I can see that Thorin's mind is temporarily unburdened. His eyes sparkle with love for his kin as they make merry and the small smile across his face is endearing, if maybe a little breathtaking. In truth he looks beautiful; it's not a word I would commonly associate with dwarf kind, but it is the only word that comes close enough to describe it. After coming to know Thorin Oakenshield better, I realize that these moments are precious few and they are always something to behold.

He must have sensed my eyes because he turns to look at me. For a moment I worry that his peaceful expression will pass, but it doesn't. In my surprise, I end up smiling back at him. This only brightened his mood further and I think I see his eyes shine just a little brighter. I would have tried to examine him further, had something behind Thorin not caught my attention.

In the open hallway which we had all been led here, I see two elves talking heatedly over something; well as heatedly as elves can be anyway. When one tries to shove something into the other's hands my breath hitches. My eyes widen slightly as I recognize Wildwind's bridle. The last I had seen she had been wearing it after Kili put it on her. The elf takes it and shrugs carelessly, with a smug expression on his face. They are talking fairly loudly in Sindarin, but I can only catch pieces over Bofur's singing.

"I naugrim…ala henia…lomtai…i di roch…"

No matter how broken the speech I can still fully understand what it is they are talking about. The same rage I experienced on the cliff with Fili and Kili overcomes me yet again as my hand slips over my dinner knife and grip it tightly.

"' _Its' after three,' he said_."

The dwarves laugh rancorously after the final verse, but through it all I can see the elf that had spoken laughing in the hallway. The sight is all I need to stand and throw the knife. It misses the elf's hand, but it does scare him and causes him to drop the bridle. Everyone is watching me once more as I approach the elf in swift strides. The other elf that is with him tries to step forward and shield his friend from my wrath. However, he is unarmed and since he stepped into my path I punched him square in the face. Even after he fell, I continue forward.

"Kalar!"

"Lad!"

"What is the meaning of this?"

I grab the bridle from the ground and as I rise my other hand wraps around the elf's throat to pin him to the post behind him. I can hear elvish guards moving around, but they do not make a move on me. I can sense the tension, but no one actually makes a move. My eyes narrow at the elf and I can see that he is well and truly afraid of me. When the next thing I hear is my own voice, I manage to scare myself at the hoarseness of it.

"Dui ewen, gweriadh?"

The look of utter surprise on his face makes my irritation grow.

"Naradh nin!"

He lifts a finger and points back towards the main entrance of the valley. Much like Imelkane, it is likely that they have a main livery there. Since we came through a Hidden Pass it is likely that we would have never seen the main entrance. Or whatever may be in the main stables…Claiming this as a suitable answer I drop my hand and walk away to investigate for myself. Several elven guards surround the nearby area, but they still make no move against me. I keep them in the corner of my eye as I remove myself from the dais. Though everyone is clamoring at my sudden attack, only Thorin's voice cuts through the din.

"Ranger! What happened?!" he demands.

"They have my horse and your ponies stabled at the main gates. They were planning to keep them there without our knowledge or consent," I answer with a sneer. "I'm going to check and make sure everything is still there." A momentary silence passes and the emotions on Thorin's face change as my words sink in.

"And if it is not?" asks Thorin. His question has an odd tone to it. He is mad clearly, but he also sounds curious.

"I think I've demonstrated that I can make a few elves talk if need be," I say. However, a moment after it I add, "By your leave, my king."

The outburst with the elf is bad enough, the last thing I need is to overstep myself further and cause Thorin to lose face in front of the elves. I may be a force to be reckoned with, but I am bound by Thorin's contract and I will follow his lead. Even if I want nothing more than to throw that sneaky elf like my bow nights before. I am surprised to see that I am graced with another of Thorin's smiles.

"You have it," he says. My breath catches a little from the small smile I receive, but I manage to turn away from him before it could be considered staring. As I resume my departure I can hear Thorin's rumbling timber, this time directed away from me. This time I am not surprised – Lord Elrond has to answer for this one.

I meet little resistance as I make my way to the stables and despite my earlier aggravation, I am already beginning to feel calmer. The sun is reaching the end of the valley when I reach my destination, presenting the evening's dusk. I wonder briefly if the magic is already taking its toll and forcing me to relax, but I recognize that I am also very tired.

The building itself, much like the rest of Imladris, is beautifully crafted. The wood is bent in striking patterns and has an open feeling consistent with the many glassless windows found in Rivendell. The building is a little more secluded than the rest, but that is just fine with me. The peace would be a welcomed change.

Upon entering, I see many elves removing supplies from the ponies' backs. They are muttering amongst themselves, trying to figure out what to do with the packs. However, they had heard my approach and look up at me surprised, if maybe a little bored.

"Autasi!"

They look at each other, trying to decide whether or not to heed my command. I am prepared to say it again, with more choice words, but luckily they set aside the goods and take their leave. I stand to one side of the doorway to watch them and ensure that they leave me in peace. Once I'm sure they have all gone I step further into the stables.

Further near the back I see Wildwind, and when she catches sight of me, she begins nicker. A smile settles on my face as I approach my excited friend. She eagerly shoves her face into my hands, asking for me to pet her. I do, but apparently it is not enough as she gently nips at my hair and rubs her face against mine.

"I missed you too. I'm glad you made it back to me safely," I murmur to her. I stroke her neck soothingly for both her pleasure and my comfort. I knew we would meet again, but there is nothing better than having her presence there with me physically. While stroking her muzzle I can see that the elves had taken quite good care of our ponies. The only thing left was to bring the dwarves their packs, but there is enough time for that later.

I am content with just petting Wildwind, but a familiar presence draws me away. From the corner of my eye I can see the figure in the doorway, the fading sun casting shadows upon her face. Despite the small tension that settles in my body, I do not draw my sword. I wouldn't harm a friend, even if her appearance in Rivendell is a little unsettling. I hadn't seen her in years; I had still been not much more than a child. It felt like a long time – to me at least.

"Man ceredech si, Tahna?"

"Ma tirani sui maelech, Tauriel."

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 **Translations:**

Sen alpulno - This cannot be.  
I naugrim…ala henia…lomtai…i di roch… - The dwarves...don't need to know...hide them...with the horse...  
Dui ewen, gweriadh? - Where are they, you thief/betrayer?  
Naradh nin - Tell me  
Autasi - Get away from here/Get out  
Man ceredech si, Tahna? - What are you doing here, Tahna?  
Ma tirani sui maelech, Tauriel. - Good to see you as well, Tauriel.

 **I know a lot of people don't like Tauriel because she wasn't in the book, but I don't mind her. Really I thought it was kind of nice to have another girl around (just wish they gave more characters [Fili] justice closer to the end). Don't worry, though, Tauriel now serves a greater purpose to my story so thank you Jackson for creating her!**

 **A little shorter than usual again…huh. I have…one more chapter before I do the reveal. I hope you will all be patient with me, but also excited! Good things are happening here.**

 **Again sorry for my god awful Sindarin translations. If any reader is a Sindarin translator, please help me fix them. I can only do so much. Any way thank you for reading and sticking with me!**


	12. To a Brighter Future

**Hey everyone. This is much longer than I thought it would be so I only got in one edit for this one. If something is out of place or doesn't makes sense shoot me a PM. Anyway next chapter is the reveal! Are you excited? I am. Now last Friday was my birthday! Please send me a review for this chapter; reviews make the best birthday presents! Not much else to say here except please excuse my horrible Sindarin again.**

 **angel897 –** _Thank you for the kind words!_

 **SleepiPanda** – _Yep! Don't mess with the ranger!_

 **QueefCream** – _I'm giving Tauriel a part in the story that is more important than friendzoning Legolas! Yay! I hope you like the Kili moment! Let me know!_

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She's getting to the reunion bit and I am so excited!**

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"I will not ask again," says the Silvan elleth. "What are you doing here?" She strides forward to face me, completely unintimidated by my presence. Most elves could sense my magic on some level, but Tauriel has never faltered because of it. It's one of the things I like about her.

Her Silvan heritage differentiates her from the Noldor elves that simply emanated magic. She is not nearly as pale as her brethren and her red hair stands out like a flame in the darkness. Much like the other elves, she had something otherworldly about her, but her blood prevents her from appearing as cold or distant as the rest of her kin.

"I travel with the dwarves, Mellonen," I explain. I leave Wildwind to the meal in her stall to approach the she elf. She looks me over and her eyes shine a little brighter.

"I thought as much…You have grown so much, Tahna," she responds. "I forget sometimes just how quickly the Children of Men grow."

At this point I reach her and wrap my arms around her in a hug. In a way it almost feels like I'm protecting her, despite her being much older than I. I hold her against me and take comfort in her solid form and her knowledge of my true nature. Her welcoming warmth is another difference between her and other elves; I know that she cares by letting me so close. We each hold each other a little tighter before separating. If she thought I had grown then she equally remained unchanged…except for the new emblem on her uniform. It's the royal seal of the Greenwood.

"You're Captain of the Guard now? That's exciting," I state. "What's the captain doing on this side of the Misty Mountains while her charges are in the Woodland Realm?"

"Checking in on old friends and making sure they are doing nothing foolish," the elf replies solemnly. Straight to the point, no dancing around; it's one of the many things I love about her. However, she adds, "Thranduil has also given me temporary leave to visit my cousins that live in Rivendell."

"Why do they not live with you?" I ask, genuinely curious. When she says nothing I manage to figure it out, "The forest is getting worse isn't it?"

"Mirkwood is becoming a very apt name for the forests of the East," she states. "I am afraid we do not have much time for small talk. I must return shortly, but I want to address the rumors…"

I frown, "You should know better than to listen to rumors, Tauriel."

"In most circumstances I wouldn't, but rarely any rumor about you is rarely wrong…" she pushes.

"I'll have you know, I didn't slay that dragon in Ered Mithrin," I say jokingly. However, after realizing the dragon rumor is close to the real goal I add, "Or the mermaids in the Sea of Rhun."

"I know," says Tauriel curtly. Her large green eyes meet mine and she holds them. "However, the whispers are in regards to Thorin Oakenshield. They say he plans to reclaim the Lonely Mountain."

My scowl from earlier returns and I do my best to reign in the worst of my reaction. I'm not surprised – after the attack today, it is clear that others know of the quest. I believe that Thorin didn't tell anyone intentionally, but someone must have overheard something. My mind momentarily drifts to the Storyteller. Somehow I wouldn't be surprised to find out that he was the one who started the rumor.

"We are travelling east," I confide, "But only to visit their kin."

"Then why so few of you? I would imagine the line of Durin would want to be well protected and surely more than thirteen dwarves would want to see their kin."

"We travel quicker this way," I state.

"Is that matter of such grave importance for such speed to be required?" says Tauriel. Despite her calm tone, I know this is a partial interrogation. She is certainly a good choice for captain of the guard. If nothing else, Thranduil chose well.

"It is not my business," I murmur.

"So you travel with them, despite that they do not trust you with this information?" she says, clearly not believing a word of it. "What is in this arrangement for you?"

"Does it matter?" I ask defensively.

"Answer me Tahna, daughter of Kalar," she demands gently. I flinch upon hearing my full title and I cannot bring myself to look at her. Tauriel has seen me at my worst and done her best to heal what wounds she could. Both she and her father risked their lives and namesakes just to see me spared after the crime I had committed. Even after all that she had seen she still calls me her friend. This, in my mind, gives her the right to ask such things of me. However, I am currently serving Thorin and the less I divulge of my intentions and his, the better.

"I was preparing to travel north anyway and they needed my help." I know that my half truths do not work on her and so I cannot begin to fathom why I bothered with trying.

"To what? To what end, Tahna? You and I both know you have no intention of going back to Thoth. Where are you going, Tahna?" she asks a little louder now.

"…To Gundabad," I growl at her. This is the truth, and in some ways my ultimate shame. I have chosen a life a revenge, which is not what my people stood for, but it is the only life I have known. My hatred for the pale orc has given me a purpose, power, skill, and praise. I do not try to play off in my mind that it is some kind of justice, for it is not nearly as blind or brutal as my vendetta. From the disappointed look on her face I know I need not say more on the matter.

"You still search for him. You still seek the death of the Defiler," she says. She states aloud, maybe in hopes that I will deny it, but she should know that I will not. So she continues, "Even after everything that has happened, still you will not give him up. My father sacrificed for you, I vouched for you…Gliwen died because of you." She accuses me of nothing, but her voice is hollow as she gives voice to my sins.

My hands tighten into fists as I remember the young elleth's last moments of life. She died in my arms, my blade still lodged inside her. Despite her lack of breath she had whimpered an apology to me; me, of all people. Her eyes had released tears in her pain, but she used her last breath to apologize and forgive me for what I did to her. How could she do that? I couldn't even forgive myself…My own mother hadn't even forgive me in the end.

"I know, Tauriel," my voice cracking under the weight of my guilt. "But hunting him is the only goal I have. I have no real home, no purpose."

"That is a lie," Tauriel spits back harshly. My entire body tenses as I had not heard her speak to me like this before. "You can give yourself purpose and move on with your life, but you refuse to. You are too narrow-minded and afraid to try and do anything with the life you have been given."

"Afraid?" I ask angrily. "Of what?"

"Of change," says Tauriel. Her tone has softened once more. "To give up on your search accept a life that does not revolve around the ghosts of your past. You are afraid to let them go and finding something else to hold onto in this world. A new life would be so different from the one you lead now that you fear you would no longer recognize yourself or remember those you have lost. It is a frightening thing to let go, Tahna, but you must. This path will lead to nothing, but more pain for you, Mellonen. And it will destroy what little you have left."

"Tell me, Tauriel, what is it that I have left?" I ask lowly. "Azog took everything from me. Anything I once held dear has been burned into ashes or is in the ground as warg shit."

"Another lie," Tauriel retorts. "Tell me, Tahna, when did you become such a good liar?"

My fists clench again at my sides at her accusation. Since the fall of my people I had done my utmost to never lie. Half-truths maybe, but never outright lies. I am not a liar!

"In your mind you perceive it as a truth," Tauriel continues, "but it is not _the_ truth. I saw you earlier with the dwarves. You looked so content and welcome among them, and they with you. Especially the younger ones…Tahna, I saw you smiling…"

"They are good people and good friends. I will give you that," I state, unwilling to fully yield.

"They are more than that, but you will not allow yourself to see it. They are good friends, as you said, ones who would accept you into their homes. They are a possible future Tahna, but you still refuse to see it," she says pleadingly. "I am not surprised to see you bond with dwarves, for your stubbornness surely rivals theirs, but they are not your only future. Your uncle and cousin would surely forgive you and welcome you back in Thoth, or maybe the young ranger apprentice who took you from Mirkwood. I wish that you would look beyond the past and see the bright futures you could have. If only you let yourself be happy, Tahna."

"I will be," I answer with confidence. "When Azog and Bolg join Gijak in the Void."

Tauriel's eyes remain saddened, but something also affirms within them. "Tell them the truth. If nothing else tell them and you can see that I speak true. They would be a future for you; they could be home again, Tahna."

My heart does ache with the thought of a home. Friends, family, love, and hope. Tauriel is wrong to think I do not wish for these things, for I want them more than anything, but I cannot. Not until my past is well and truly buried.

"No more half-truths, Tahna," she continues, "How can you raise children, let alone love someone, if everything you are is based on only half of who you are? It's is not your way, Tahna."

I try to open my mouth to reply, but find myself cut off by the sound of something falling into the doorway. When we both turn I see Kili that has just stumbled into the stables. His flushed face and hazy eyes are clear indications that he had not stopped with the elvish wine at dinner. He is thoroughly intoxicated. Mahal, how did Thorin let Kili slip away like this? Where is Fili? They never go anywhere without each other.

"Kili? Where's your brother?" I ask cautiously. He looks up at me with an unfocused eyes and a goofy grin on his face.

"We split up to look for you," he answers as he picks himself up off the ground and sways a little. "We thought the elves may have tried something after what you did at dinner." His eyes land on Tauriel, who watches him with curiosity in her eyes. He returns the look with squinted eyes and tightened lips. "Is this elf giving you trouble, Kalar? I can find Fili and rough him up a bit if you want." Surely it's the wine talking, Kili wouldn't attack someone out of the blue even if they were annoying. Despite that, I burst out laughing at the image in my head of Kili, who is swaying on his feet, trying to attack the Captain of Mirkwood. He looks like a solid breeze could knock him over. Not only that, but Kili has just misgendered an elf…again. Kili looks a little confused, but smiles at me anyway. Over time, my laughter dies away.

"Not at all, Kili," I answer. "This is Tauriel, she's a friend. She's gotten me out of quite a few rough scrapes." The pointed look I feel on the back of my head is thoroughly ignored.

Kili looks up at her again, squinting his eyes in concentration, "You can't be a she-elf."

"Oh?" says Tauriel. "And why is that?" she prompts. The small smile on her face tells me this amuses her greatly and I confess it is nice to have her looking away from me for the moment.

"Because you're wearing breeches," he answers with a large nod that almost sends him tumbling. Tauriel's eyes light up at the silly statement and a small giggle escapes her lips. Upon hearing her laugh, Kili's face breaks out into another smile. "Maybe you are a girl…You are so beautiful."

My friend's face creates a bright blush across her cheeks and a smug grin settles on my face. She clearly hadn't been expecting Kili to compliment her or to be so blunt; though the latter maybe because of the drink. However, her response left me quite shocked.

"Maybe I am, Master Dwarf," she flirts. "But I cannot think of a way to prove it to you." I openly stare at my friend for her suggestive flirt. I think my jaw hangs open slightly, but I can't bring myself to care. I have admired Tauriel because of the differences between her and her kin, but this seems out of place entirely. I know she has a playful nature, but this…

Despite that Kili misses the suggestion entirely and simply chuckles, "You're funny too!" There is a momentary pause while he tries to think. "I know! Girls like hugs. You should give me hug!"

"That is a horrible generalization, Kee," I say. "You can't base what you know of girls on your mother. Not to mention, you like hugs; does that make you a girl?"

"No," pouts Kili, "Shut up." He staggers forward to hug Tauriel, but starts falling instead. Tauriel, who is both closer and faster than me react to grab him. Thinking it's a hug, Kili wraps his arms around her to "reciprocate". Tauriel is blushing even harder now, but still wears a look of amusement; at least until Kili starts rubbing his face along her bust.

"You are a girl," says Kili contentedly. She looks up at me for help and I cannot stop myself from laughing. Kili remains in his position until Tauriel gently pushes him away, leaving the dwarf with a pitiful expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he says for no particular reason. He offers no explanation so I cannot begin to fathom what he is sorry for. Tauriel had flirted back with him and he had not forced himself on her per say, so I can't see the necessity of apologies. Tauriel gives him a bright smile to let him know all is well before turning back to me.

"Ir pulni tiraech ad?"

"We will be here for a few days at most," I answer. "Where shall I meet you?"

"I spend most of my time here with my cousin in the southern most groves. Meet me there within two days or else I will have already left," she says. I nod in acknowledgement. She turns back to the door gracefully side stepping Kili as he watches her leave, still unsteady.

"Can I come see you too?" he asks lazily.

She stops in the doorway and turns to smile back at him. "If you wish," she answers, "I do find you quite amusing, Master Kili." She looks away from him and back up at me. "Regardless of the outcome it was good to see you."

A small smile covers my face at the genuine tone in her voice. "And you, Tauriel," I respond. Tauriel and her father are the only elves that I have ever actually liked; they are both good people in a world of darkness. They were there for me in my darkest hour and saw me at my worst, yet still they saw something good within me and protected me from Thranduil's wrath. I am forever in their debt and would do my best to protect them, if possible. With another small smile she leaves; now it is just me and the inebriated son of Durin.

"She's like a flame," he hums without explanation once more. I chuckle a little at his dazed state and he turns to look at me suddenly, "Are you and her…?" I think he tries to make a kissing motion with his mouth, but I honestly thought he was going to be sick.

"No," I affirm. I could only imagine what the company would think of my courting an elf. Kili nods and sways for a moment before he looks up at me with haze in his eyes.

"What about you?" he asks.

"Me?" I ask, confused.

"You wear breeches," he says.

"That is correct, Kili," I say holding in a chuckle, but still not understanding what he is getting at.

"Are you a girl?" he says. My surprise at the question stuns me momentarily. I can't imagine how Kili managed to come to this question based on the previous one, but it is out now, regardless. My heart clenches at the thought of lying to him and with Tauriel's words still hanging in the air, the truth slides out easily.

"Yes I am," I state plainly. I am still not a liar…

The look of surprise on his face is quickly overtaken by a large smile. He stumbles over to me and wraps his arms around me much like he did with Tauriel. His cheek is now pressed firmly against where my bust would be if I wasn't still wearing my chest plate and his arms keep me close. A small blush settles on my cheeks at his endearing hug and I hug him back; before I can pull away, though, he says something.

"Namadith," he whispers. I recognize that the word is Khuzdul, but I have absolutely no idea what it means. I can only hope it is nothing dirty.

"Come on, Kili. Help me bring back the supplies to the others," I say as I finally manage to remove his arms.

* * *

Thorin watches the sun's last rays disappear behind the hills, still disgruntled by this evening's events. His argument with the wizard, who smokes his pipe across the room from Thorin, remains unfinished. Upon discovering the withholding of the company's ponies and supplies, Thorin had promptly accused the Elrond of deception. The elf lord had calmly tried to assure Thorin that the ponies would have been returned after they had been seen to. Thorin had been unable to show any proof of ill intent, but there is nothing to support his innocence either. Nothing could be confirmed until the ranger returned.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that evening his mind flickers to the ranger. This time it starts with the trolls and the concerns that still rest in the back of his mind. He had truly meant what he had said at dinner, believing the ranger to be a brave and powerful ally. He had protected all who had been under Thorin's protection when he had failed, even his own nephews. He had selflessly defended both them and himself.

A small smile passes over his face as recalls the look they had exchanged at dinner during Bofur's song. Thorin recollects being lightened by the mood of his company when the miner had taken up the merry tune and when he met eyes with the ranger he had even offered a smile. Kalar's eyes had been as warm as the forges of Erebor and returned a smile of his own.

Thorin had been disturbed when it quickly changed into a scowl after the ranger's eyes had shifted behind him. The dwarf lord had followed the line of sight to the two elves in the hallway, speaking rather loudly in their native tongue. Thorin hadn't understood that anything was amiss until Kalar threw the knife.

Thorin has no love for elves of any kind, but the suddenness of the attack almost had him feeling sorry for its victim. However, Thorin nearly started laughing when Kalar had unceremoniously punched one of the elves in the face. If anyone were to ask Thorin he would deny that his heart had swelled with pride at the memory. Most Dunedain rangers have good relations with the elves, so it is a relief to Thorin that Kalar is not enamored with the elves. Of all the strange things here he knows that Kalar is the least of his worries right now and in some ways it meant he could count on him.

That is why he hadn't stopped him when he had pushed up the other elf up against the post. The elvish that had slipped out of the ranger's lips had been guttural and angry, very unlike the flowery language itself. Thorin has a feeling that he would quickly become accustomed to Khuzdul. It had been enough to wrench an answer from the elf. Kalar had turned on his heel and let the elf hit the floor as he went to reclaim what is theirs. With a little probing from Thorin, Kalar had allowed the dwarf lord to grant him permission to continue, which had pleased Thorin immensely. Despite the ranger's initial outburst, he had put Thorin in the position of power over him to and provided Thorin with a higher role of authority.

The night overall has ended in Thorin's favor, regardless of the tighter tensions now with the elves and the scolding he received from the wizard after returning from the meal. He has a new blade and men are safe for the night. Also, for the time being the truth of their journey has yet to be revealed so the elves would not try to prevent them from leaving yet. Once the ranger returned with the supplies they would also be able to eat properly.

Thorin's mind turns back to the ranger, or more specifically the blade. The Slayer of Dragons; how appropriate. If Thorin didn't know better he would have thought Kalar had done that on purpose, but he had seen Dwalin give him the blade; it truly was nothing more than coincidence. However, with this turn of events, Thorin had silently begun a war within himself. He knew better than to let everything that has happened on the journey pass without speaking to the ranger. Kalar has good character and the amount of experience he has battling dark creatures has proved invaluable. On one hand he is strange, unpredictable, and had a temper that could rival Dain's. On the other hand he has proven to be brave, loyal, and selfless.

Thorin recalls his own words in Bag End prior to his encounter with the ranger. He had asked only for loyalty, honor, and a willing heart. All of these Kalar has given him, but there still he holds back from treating him the same as the rest of the company. His lingering doubt stems from the betrayal of the elves who had sworn to come to his people's aid if they ever needed it. Because of this he refuses to let go of the fear that Kalar may be a girl. However, he is so close to letting go of his fear. He is tired of stubbornly fighting what "might be" and he finds that with every step the company takes, the ranger gains a little more of his trust.

For a moment Thorin lets his mind wander. If Kalar even was a woman, what would he do? The first thing that comes to mind is leaving him behind in Rivendell to keep him safe. Then he remembers that he is still a fully fledged ranger. The very night they had met, Kalar had returned from slaying ghouls and this day had been his third encounter with trolls. Even if Thorin left him behind, he would just turn around to go and face the next danger alone. The truth of the matter is that regardless of Kalar's gender he would be much safer with the company. He had been alone when they found him, which is not the safest route for anyone in this age. Thorin could not simply ignore that fact…

However, would he keep him with them? If he kept him regardless of a feminine nature he would be leading a woman to an end many have declared a suicide. This instills a fear in Thorin that he may actually be willing to let a woman face such dangers if it meant he could reclaim the Lonely Mountain. His men are stout warriors of the Line of Durin, willing to put their lives down in hopes of giving their kin a better future. Would he really let a human girl risk her life for a fight that is not her own? Thorin shutters at his answer.

He knows now why others would purposefully remain ignorant of the signs; how much simpler it would be to assume him as nothing more than a lad with a good heart and a steady hand. Thorin yearns to give in to the same and ignore the selfishness of his choice. He longs to pretend there are no signs, for he was so tired…But if he wasn't cautious it would be just like the elves all over again.

"Thorin," starts Gandalf, breaking Thorin from his reverie. "We must speak to Lord Elrond. He is one of the few in Middle Earth who can read the map-"

"Not until Kalar returns," Thorin counters. The ranger had been gone for so long that he had sent his nephews out after him. However, Fili had returned not long after, completely lost in the elvish stores of wine. Thorin could only imagine what Kili would be like at this point if they had discovered the wine together.

Sons of Durin have a very high tolerance to most drink, including elvish wine. However, most dwarves and his sister-sons had never dealt with anything stronger than the dwarf brew from Ered Luin. As such they had never experienced elf wine before and would be suffering that oversight come morning.

"We must not-" starts Gandalf, when he is suddenly cut off by the doors to the antechamber swinging open violently. Most, including Thorin, tense and grip their weapons. However, what they see is enough to send most of the company into fits of laughter. The ranger has packs from the ponies on each arm and some even dragging from ropes tied to his belt. The laughter is caused by what is nestled on the ranger's back. Kili is very drunk with his arms wrapped around the ranger's neck and his legs are sandwiched by the packs carried. It really made Kili look like a child and his nuzzling of the ranger's face did him no favors. He is murmuring something in Khuzdul so low that not even Thorin could hear. Kalar himself looks fit to burst.

"Get him off of me," he growls. With more laughter everyone moves to assist the ranger by taking off the packs first. Then Dori and Dwalin peel Kili from the ranger's back, which takes a surprising amount of effort. When they finally get him off, Kili falls into the pair and promptly passes out. Now free, the son of Imelkane turns to Thorin, while not very mad, the annoyance in his eyes is hard to miss.

"You let him run around Rivendell like that? How much did you let him have?" he asks.

Thorin makes another note of the mothering tone the ranger has taken, but also has half a mind to smile at the irate ranger. He decides against it and tries to form a response when Fili comes stumbling out of the bath chamber. He appears to be faring better than his brother had, but the small sway in his stance is an easy indicator. He does his best to stand up properly when his eyes land on the child of Men.

"Kalar!" he slurs only slightly. He begins to make his way towards the ranger. Aware of his intentions the ranger moves away from the doorway and puts a large table between himself and the prince.

"Prince Fili, how much wine have you and your brother consumed this night?" asks the golden-eyed man cautiously.

"Ah…a pitcher…maybe two…" he estimates.

"Two!?" exclaims the ranger. The glower returns to Thorin, but the ranger says nothing. Thorin however, finds the entire situation quite hilarious. He even lets the smile he had been holding back before, out. Kalar begins to look even more aggravated, causing Thorin's smile to grow bigger.

"Now that Kalar has returned," says the wizard impatiently and gaining the attention of the entire company, "We must discuss apologizing to Lord Elrond."

"Apologize?!"

Thorin and Kalar look at one another, surprised that their outburst had been synchronized. The others are silent as the small stare passes between them. Kalar breaks away and is the first to make his displeasure known.

"We have nothing to apologize for," Kalar says. "The elves hid what the Company paid for: the ponies, the supplies, the weapons. They are thieves."

"We are their guests," says Gandalf irately, "And they are our hosts. It would serve you well to show them some respect."

"Respect?!" growls Kalar. Thorin's smile has warped into a smug grin as Kalar continues the fight that Thorin had fought with Gandalf earlier. "Respect is earned. I heard the elf laughing at our unawares as if it were all some game."

"So rather than calmly bring the matter up you think you are in the right to assault the citizens of Rivendell?" asks Gandalf.

"They have us disarmed at the dinner table. If I brought up the ponies; do you think he would just hand them over, especially after what he already suspects? I'm glad to have done as I did. I would have done it no different if it were even the elf lord you so do fancy," Kalar spits.

The wizard stands and approaches the ranger so quickly that some of the company jump at his sudden appearance. The ranger, however, remains unmoved and faces the wizard that towers over him.

"Lord Elrond is one of the most powerful persons in all of Middle Earth. He is offering up his home and his wisdom…I will not allow your brashness to forsake this quest," he says quietly.

The wizards tone is as frightening as the one they had heard at the table of Bilbo Baggins in Bag End, but the ranger doesn't seem to care. Kalar coolly replies, "Powerful and wise he may be, but that is not an excuse. Honesty and integrity are also features befitting a lord of his stature. If he apologizes to Thorin for his lack of manners then I shall apologize for mine."

"Lord Elrond-"

"Is our host, as you said," says Kalar, "And we are his guests. If we are in the wrong then so too are they." The ranger finishes with his arms crossed, unwilling to yield to Gandalf's imperious stature. Gandalf, who seems to realize the ranger's conviction, sighs.

"Very well I will set up an audience with Lord Elrond as soon as possible," he says. After a moment, Kalar bows his head in agreement. "Now as to the matter of the map-"

"I will not let the elf anywhere near the map," says Thorin suddenly. "How do I know he will not pocket it at the first chance?"

"Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves," says Gandalf frustratedly. A loud crash draws everyone's attention from their leader and wizard to see that Fili had gotten much closer to Kalar during the conversation with the wizard. Apparently Kalar had been distracted enough that Fili slipped around the barrier to come up behind Kalar. Fili is now holding the son of Imelkane in a loose sleeper hold. The smile on Fili's face tells Thorin that he is trying to rile the ranger up. Unfortunately for Fili, it works.

"Prepare to die, son of Dis," grumbles the ranger. Kalar then throws his arms up and around Fili's neck and drags him over his shoulder. However, midflight Fili tightens his hold and takes Kalar down with him. Another round of laughter comes from the company as they begin to make bets on the wrestling match before them. Kalar and Fili start tumbling along the floor like children at play as they try to get a better hold on one another.

They watch them for a few moments before turning away. Balin, though smiling at the cheerful spectacle, is the first to return to the topic at hand, "This is the heirloom of our people and in light of recent events I cannot in good conscious agree to let the elves see this. The map and all of its contents, including its secrets are ours to protect."

"Then do you know of someone else who may know to read this map?" asks Gandalf pointedly. "Hm?" he adds.

Thorin winces a little at the tiny jeer at the end of the wizard's statement. No dwarf would know how, such knowledge was lost over time. The royal family still followed such practices, but the loss of his grandfather and father had hardly provided Thorin with the opportunity to learn. Thorin bows his head slightly in defeat and Balin remains sadly silent. A light tap on Thorin's shoulder has him turning to meet the ranger's golden gaze.

"May I please see the map?" he asks gently. Thorin's inner turmoil rises once more, but with the thought of giving it to Lord Elrond he eases it into the man's hands. The ranger unfolds it and lays it out gently upon the table. With the movement Thorin can see that Fili is sleeping on an overturned couch in the corner of the room. It would seem that the ranger had ended things quickly…

The ranger looks over the parchment once and then twice before a smile blossoms on his face. Thorin momentarily stares at the scar on the corner of his mouth once more before looking back at him. "These are moon runes," he says jovially. Thorin's heart stopped a moment. The ranger knew exactly what was on the parchment, and he would have been able to tell them all along. His eyes slid to Balin who had a relieved and joyful look to them.

"Moon runes?" the old warrior asks carefully.

"Aye," the ranger breathes. "Noble houses of dwarves would use these to send secret messages to each other so that no one could read the messages even if they were intercepted," Kalar says excitedly. "The dwarves had some magic of their own and infused it into liquid mithril to write it so that it could only be read in the light of the same moon it was written. Of course most cases can't wait entirely for the same moon so the low the mithril grade was commonly used to only have to wait closer to a month. It makes it easier to read, but this…"

"If it was only for noble dwarves then how do you know?" asks Gloin suspiciously.

"We were once a people of knowledge and much was dark to us in the regards of the War of Wrath," says the man. "King Thror gifted us with two parchments that were written by the dwarven generals at the time of the war for scholarly study. Both contained moon runes, but whether or not Thror was aware of it, I do not know."

"What does it say, lad?" says Dwalin excitedly. Thorin's own excitement grew as well. He could finally have the answers to reclaim his home.

"I can't tell," he starts, "We need to read it when there is a crescent midsummer's moon in the sky." He looks out the balcony at the night sky before turning his head back. "We have to wait one more night before we can read it."

"That's excellent news," says Balin with tears in his eyes and a grin on his face. "Well done, lad!"

"If you don't mind me askin', how do ya know that?" asks Ori.

"The message itself is right here," he says as his fingers gently trace the space beneath the words 'Desolation of Smaug.' "The scribes did excellent work. The mithril is high grade and therefore very difficult to read, not that you would know it was there. Their ink work is so light I can barely tell it's there."

"What gave it away?" asks a curious Bilbo.

"Just beneath the actual message there is a signature made with hands too heavy to be a scribe," says Kalar. "Just a moment…" he says before his fingertips begin to trace the space he spoke of. Thorin watches, entranced until the hand pulls away. "It's Thror's."

Thorin's chest tightens at the mention of his grandfather's name. However, Kalar's words have instilled a new hope in him with this miracle.

"How do you know it's tomorrow night?" asks the hobbit.

"Down here in the spider web there is a riddle in ancient dwarvish and a water mark indicating midsummer," Kalar says confidently. "Together the date and the riddle point to tomorrow night."

"What's the riddle?" asks Bilbo.

"Last of my tribe of one score and four; After I am passed there follow no more; If you use shape to describe me to others; The horseshoe and lyre in form are my brothers," he reads.

"That's strange," says Bofur. "Dwarves aren't usually ones for riddles."

"Thror always loved a good riddle," says Balin fondly. Thorin nods his head in remembrance that his grandfather had always thought riddles a good way to stimulate the mind. He hardly told any once Thorin was old enough for weapons training.

"When did ya learn to read the language of our people?" asks Dwalin.

"I got hurt in training often so when I couldn't fight with a sword I picked up a book. All of my favorite tales were about dwarrow, so I taught myself to read it," he says.

The ranger, done with his examination of the map, folds it gently and hands it back to Thorin. He looks the ranger in the eye and sees a gentle look there. Thorin is overwhelmed to say the least with a new hope, much like when Gandalf had given him the key back to his kingdom. This one ranger had protected them from danger, shielded them from the treachery of elves, and now offered them answers with honesty. If Thorin ever doubted the choice of bring the ranger along – it is washed away in this moment.

"Alright lads," says Balin, "Let's get everyone fed and off to bed. Tomorrow we will celebrate. Bombur, pass Kalar the first plate, he's earned it."

With that their gaze breaks and Kalar turns to settle beside the makeshift firepit. The ranger smiles with the observation that the pit is filled with elvish furniture. Fili awakens from his slumber and throws his weight onto Kalar's shoulder. Kalar welcomingly throws an arm on Fili's shoulder as well.

"It'll be a little while," says Bofur as he assists his brother. "How about more of your story, lad?"

Thorin clearly sees the hesitation on the man's face, but slides closer to the fire and starts anyway. Before Thorin goes to join them, eager to hear more of the ranger's origin, he turns to the wizard who had been silent for quite some time now. The suspicious look in his eyes as he watched the ranger as well as the disgruntled expression made Thorin smirk. The wizard thought he had all the answers, but apparently he hadn't counted on wild card Thorin had thrown into the pot.

"Looks like we won't be needing your elf after all."

* * *

 **Translations:**

Mellonen - My firend  
Ir pulni tiraech ad? - When can I see you again?  
Namadith - Little Sister

 **Again send me post birthday reviews! I loves them! Did anyone else wonder how Lord Elrond knew it was a midsummer crescent moon? Because I did. Is everyone excited about the extended edition release for BOTFA? I lost my mind…**

 **Next time be ready for flashbacks and reveals…in more ways than one…**


	13. A New Dawning

**Hey everyone. Sorry I'm a day late getting this one out, I had to make a lot of last minute decisions with this chapter. If something is out of place or doesn't makes sense shoot me a PM - I hate it when I have to half ass edit everything. So this chapter is the reveal, but I think it's bit of a troll. The way I ended it just makes me smirk a little bit. More on the back story and a massive amounts of nudity in this one. Gore and butts as my dad would say…Which is why there will be a rating change, but I promise no smut stuffs till later. Anyway thank you so much everyone for your reviews on the last chapter it. All of your kind words really made my day and is getting me through some rough days.**

 **angel897, MoonsHollow, SamanthaJane13, and shishiwastaken –** _Thank you for the kind words! And 'Yahoo!' back at you, BlackStar style._

 **animexchick** – _0_0 You have no idea how right you are…_

 **QueefCream** – _Not fully done with Tauriel in Rivendell yet. I got one more scene in mind. This time with both Fili and Kili. I think it will be both fun and adorable._

 ** _Outofthisworldgal_** _– I love all of your questions! I want to tell you all of them, but I don't want to give too much away. I fully believe that this story is a bit of journey itself and I want to run its course. I hope to do you proud!_

 ** _0x0UnderDog0x0_** _– I'm glad you like drunk Fili and Kili! They may make a reappearance later…_

 **Kuroi-Akuma-no-Okami** _– I know that we PMed, but just so everyone know Namadith means little sister. I don't know why, but I always thought Kili would be an awesome older brother._

 **inperfection** – _Thank you for the birthday wish. It was amazing and now Halloween just passed and Halloween is my Christmas…any chance I could get one more_ ;)

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She's just tickled my inner horror movie nerd with a new plot point, so excited!**

* * *

 _It had been at least two hours since the initial wave and I had almost reached the city walls. I had been leaping from building to building, which became harder as the streets widened and structures were more damaged. I had to go around a couple particular buildings because they were ablaze, but now the gate was before me…only a few more meters. The rest of the buildings along my path appeared too unstable to use, so I had to return to the ground. I crouched carefully on the top of the roof's edge, looking for a way down. A frozen water barrel by a side door was the only thing nearby. As quickly and quietly as possible I dropped down and then crouched behind it. Despite the amount of time that had passed, there didn't really seem to be an end to the orcs in sight and most of Imelkane's soldiers had already been killed. From what I had seen there were hardly any bodies at the gate; why was that? If they had invaded from there they would have had to fight the guards off. Had no one been here?_

 _Loud and angry snarls from the enemy permeate the air since the screams of my people had started to die out. I know I had to reach the gate, but what was the point if I just ended up being caught. So I made sure to look up and down the small alleyway before moving. Standing still wasn't a good idea, but moving into view for the orcs was no better. I saw one small grey orc run past one opening of the alleyway, but he was already focused on something else in the distance and didn't even spare my direction a glance. After waiting a moment or so more I finally made my move and ran to the end of the alley way. Once there, I looked along the street to see if it was totally deserted. Most of the orcs had already made their way to the interior of the city and even with the few stragglers the outer streets seemed empty. The gate was so close and the orcs weren't even guarding it. My heart lifted hopefully, only to drop when there was a familiar clanging of metal blades._

 _My hope of running to the gate was dashed when I saw a group of boys emerge from behind a small armory settled next to the stables. A few horses flee, some with small children on their back. In the orcs raid, they had forgotten about the horses and some children, who had likely hid before the evacuation to the tunnels, made use of them. The boys who allowed for the younger children to escape were fending off a small pack of orcs with swords from the armory. I recognized most of the boys from the training yard; particularly the baker's son who was my unofficial sparring partner. Three more orcs run past my hiding place to go after the boys, I hadn't even seen them near and almost shouted out in surprise. I saw Ayxis, who is fifteen and almost ready to complete his final training, leading the boys and positioning them into a better defensive position. They circled up and kept their backs to each other, unwilling to let the enemy get behind them._

 _I might have made it to the gate if I really wanted, the orcs were distracted enough, but these were my friends and would have one day been my brothers in arms; I refused to leave them behind like this. So with the training sword my mother had given me, I came up behind one of the three orcs that had run past me and ran it through. It was an odd feeling, having something twitch and drain out at the end of the blade and then having the weight almost drag you down. The rabbit was my first kill. I did it to provide for my family. The orc was my first kill in battle and the start of my vengeance._

 _Ayxis grabbed my arm and pulled me into the circle with the rest of the boys before the orcs realize I have even appeared. The force of the pull was strong enough that with the grip I had on my sword it yanked out the corpse rather easily. On instinct I started to block and try to time my thrusts to keep the creatures shrieking at us at bay. Once I missed a block, but one boy who is standing beside his twin blocked it for me and gave me the advantage to kill yet another orc. Slowly, we began to gain ground and as a unit we started making our way to the gate. If I'm entirely honest I was just glad that was not alone anymore. Along with Ayxis, there are the twins, Dorren and Tybin, the baker's son, Traehan, and three boys closer to my age; I recognized the last three as the sons of guards who fight alongside my father. We had begun to pass the burning stable when one of the boys cried out._

" _Gaellyn!"_

 _I forced back an attacking orc with Tybin's help once more and do my best to look in the same direction as the others. He was running towards us with his sword drawn, the look of concentration on his face brings me ease. We actually had defeated most of our attackers, but Gaellyn's sudden appearance still gives me hope; I had been worried that his body would have been among the dead and would have never known. We were almost free…my elation kept me afloat. When he finally reached us he went to Ayxis first since he was trying to hold off two orcs at once. However, my blood stilled in my veins as I watched Gaellyn move around the attackers and plunge his blade into Ayxis' chest._

 _For a moment I could not move and I left myself vulnerable to the remaining orc's attacks. It is only Dorren and Tybin who prevented my death when the orcs that had been fighting Ayxis surged forward. Gaellyn moved swiftly from his first victim to two of the guard's sons. They both release a scream before being delivered to the Halls of Awaiting. My heart seized as their blood stained his blade and he continued on, apathetic to the horror he just committed. The baker's son and the last of the younger boys scattered; the latter quickly received the end of an orc blade. Tybin pushed me back to the stable entrance telling me to hide before rejoining his brother who was fighting Gaellyn now. The rest of the orcs had begun to give chase to the Traehan, who was passing the gate._

 _I walked backwards slowly, too numb to feel the heat of the burning building behind me. I watched the orcs converge on the boy as they proceeded to eat him alive. His strangled cries of pain are silenced when one of the orcs ripped out his throat. I looked away from the scene with tears welling up in my eyes only to see Gaellyn finish off the twins without any mercy. When his blade withdrew and Dorren's golden eyes closed he stood up straight and surveyed the area. Maybe he didn't know I was there? I back in further, trying to hide from him when my arm accidentally brushed by a burning support. I let out a small cry and accidentally inhaled a large amount of smoke, causing me to cough. Despite that I cannot see him; I know that he must have heard me. So I made my way to the back entrance in hopes of gaining enough time and distance to try for the gate._

 _Unfortunately, the back door had expanded in its frame and it was impossible to open. I tried to throw a few thrusts of my shoulder into the wood in hopes of loosening it, but to no avail. I turned after a moment to see Gaellyn in the doorway, his eyes settled on my movement with an apparent look of surprise. I wanted to scream, but the sound became caught in my throat. His face kept a soft tone as he approached me, as if he were cautiously advancing on a wounded animal._

" _Tahna," he called softly._

 _Now tears began to flow freely from my eyelids as I planted my feet and refused to move, regardless of my shaking legs. He would kill me, the man I once considered family, and I would die alone. This repeated itself in my head and my body could barely feel the heat of the flame as a cold fear settled in my body. I trusted him…my anger began to make itself known…I trusted him! My friend's blood stained his boots and steel, and for what? Why had he done this? I didn't understand!_

" _It's alright, Tahna," he cooed with the soft rasp that I had once associated with comfort. However, it now instilled an unsettling nausea in the pit of my stomach. His words allowed the fear of my imminent death to subside to anger._

" _Liar!" I screamed. My voice cracked in the middle of the word. Looking into his eyes, I could see something akin to sorrow or remorse as he continued towards me. I started to cough again upon inhaling even more smoke, but it shook some of the fear that had left me paralyzed. This allowed my anger to take its place._

 _We were only feet apart. If he were to fully extend his sword arm it would have started to pierce my skin. His guard's uniform, which I had not noticed before, was covered in red blood; barely even a drop of black on it. The people he had slain looked to him for friendship, comradery, and protection. I had trusted him and so had many others, but he betrayed us. The bitterness I felt crept up the back of my throat, but I clench my teeth and held it there. By not allowing the harrowing sobs out it built a painful amount of pressure near my heart._

 _He slaughtered children just like the orcs around him…Even as a child myself, the horror of this fact did not escape me. I would join them soon, but not without a fight. Even as Gaellyn sheathed his broadsword, I brought my practice sword up to defend myself. Instead, he removed a dagger from his boot and looked up at my face with a pleading gaze._

" _I can make this painless, Tahna," he whispered. "I don't want to hurt you." I see a shinning sincerity in his eyes and my earlier nausea nearly brought me to retch. Everything about him in that one moment was gentle, as if he didn't just murder a small party of children and was about to take the life of one more. I would have prayed for help if I thought it would do any good, but surly the Valar had stopped listening to our prayers._

 _I kept my sword up to defend myself, but I could not bring myself to attack him. My sword shook in my hands as I found myself conflicted. I would use the betrayal and hatred I was feeling to fight, but because of the ties I had with Gaellyn I couldn't bring myself to attack him. He's a monster…but I still loved him. How sick could I be? I realized eventually that it would be futile, him having greater experience as a warrior left me utterly defenseless. The only reason I haven't died yet is because of his mercy and he waited for my answer patiently, like a father watching his child have a tantrum before realizing they couldn't have what they want._

 _My parents trusted this man above all others; a trust I had also given him and he washed away in the blood of our people with a few strokes of his sword. I didn't realize it then, but he is the one who had let the orcs in, he was responsible for all of what happened that day. It made me hate him more, but also mourned the love and trust we had once shared. At least what I had thought we shared…How could he offer us up like lambs to the slaughter?_

" _I won't make it easy for you," I cried with the last of my courage. "I will die like Dorren and Tybin, with my true brothers. I won't let a gentle death ease your killing me. I WON'T!"_

 _More tears flow freely down my cheeks as I watched him cautiously. I know it's useless, but it was all I could think of…the last thing I could do. Gaellyn's eyes show that he was hurt by my choice; it's one of the few things that I could allow myself to not give a damn about. He brought this upon himself – it was his choice and he had chosen wrong. I wouldn't be the one death that might ease his conscious later. I wanted to be another ghost that would haunt him when this day was done. I would not be spared just so that when he left the city he could tell himself he gave me a peaceful end._

 _There was a moment that the world seemed to stop spinning amidst the chaos around us. The fire which would soon consume the last of the air and devour us was almost forgotten. The sound of the crackling flames was drowned out by the sound of my own heart as I waited for the end. Beads of sweat began to roll along the side of my face and back, and my breathing became ragged and shallow. To my absolute surprise, he sheathed his dagger and held out his hand._

" _I can't," he said, "Tahna, I'm going to let you make a run for it. I will keep them off of your trail until-"_

 _His breath was caught when the tip of a blade protruded from his chest. It went right through his heart, which sprayed in a small spurt of blood onto my face. The strange sensation of the red, sticky substance hitting me in the face was enough to make me release a small cry._

 _When his body fell to the ground I could properly see the blade that killed him. My eyes travel up the steel and to the hilt. I immediately recognized the mithril craftsmanship. I had spent every year of my life admiring it. As I examined it I could feel the practice sword fall out of my hands. The tears blur the figure of my savior, but I didn't need to see him. The relief I felt was so overwhelming and I couldn't stop the sobs that ripped themselves from my throat. I found myself quickly encased in a pair of strong arms. I felt more blood from the figure's armor staining my clothes, but I didn't care. I threw my arms around him and I cried harder when I felt his large hand cup the back of my head._

" _Papa…"I weep. I could feel his hold on me constrict._

" _It's alright, Tahna. I'm here now. You don't have to face this alone."_

* * *

Thorin rose early the next morning. While the others slept, Thorin took note of the missing wizard and Dwalin who is finishing his watch. After the incident with the elves Thorin decided to maintain the watch schedule, just in case. He puffs on his pipe, watching the sunrise from the archway leading to a small balcony. Balin was supposed to be the last one on watch, but it is no surprise that Dwalin took it from him. His old friend had been rather haggard after the amount of running the company did the other day.

The aged warrior is currently resting to the ranger's right, sleeping peacefully. After the lad had finished the tale of the decimated city and the kidnapping of his mother, Balin had gone to comfort the boy and ended up sleeping beside him. Thorin looks over at the ranger who is sandwiched between his nephews, breathing evenly. Prior to his slumber he returned the mask to his face, worried about the effects of exposure to elvish magic.

His eyes flutter behind his eyelids, indicating that he is dreaming heavily. Thorin genuinely hopes they are good dreams. An hour or so after the ranger had fallen asleep Thorin had still been mulling over the ranger's tale. He had been looking forward to learning more of the ranger's past, but he had not anticipated the sobering nature of it all. He hardly expected anything cheerful, but a child at the age of nine…He hadn't even been that young when Erebor fell. Dis had been ten…and that is hardly a consolation. It intrigued Thorin to learn more; what drove this child of men?

Thorin, while disappointed that his kin in the Iron Hills wouldn't join their quest, had never experienced the outright betrayal that Kalar had. He knew the sorrow and desolation that came with being without a home and losing the people closest to you, but the lad has felt pain unfamiliar to the would-be King Under the Mountain. Thorin shutters at the image Kalar had painted of slaughter of children, of his friends. The traitor got what he deserved in the end.

Every little piece of past the ranger offered him only enticed Thorin more. Thror had been the one who enjoyed a good riddle or puzzle, not Thorin. One of the few exceptions seems to be the golden-eyed ranger. Kalar offers him the broken pieces of his past with very little hesitation, but the pain in his retelling is obvious. The raw emotion the boy offers them is more reminiscent of the passion of a dwarrow then that of men. It makes Thorin's heart go out to the boy.

It also helped Thorin in his decision to ignore the ranger's queer nature. Kalar's helpful and capable temperament far outweighs the strange behavior he exhibits. Thorin watches the lad sleep as he joins Dwalin by the balcony. If he remains ignorant, he won't have to force the boy to reveal the possible truth and face a difficult decision that would question Thorin's honor.

"He's not so different from us is he?" asks Dwalin. For a moment Thorin doesn't answer and Dwalin fills the air with his musings. "He's lost his home and his way…He probably just wants to go home, but can't. Maybe we were meant to find 'im…"

"I never took you for one who believed in fate," comments Thorin.

"On a quest like this and with the things we've seen that boy do…It may not be fate, but I would go so far to say we have been very lucky," he says making a smoke ring. "Let's just hope we can keep it that way until we reach the mountain."

Thorin has thought very much the same. His eyes look back over to the ranger watching him curl once more into Kili's hair. It is the first time the boy has been able to sleep properly so Thorin plans to let him sleep for as long as he likes. Kalar has earned it.

"Wake the others, but leave the ranger," says Thorin. "He has earned his rest."

"Maybe we should wait a little longer," says Dwalin with a chuckle. "After the amount of wine they consumed, I don't think the boys will appreciate being woken up."

Fili currently has his arm wrapped around the ranger's chest plate. Originally it had been placed around Kalar's neck in hopes of starting another bout of wrestling, but he fell asleep before he could go through with it. When Kili came to he went to sleep beside his brother, but with Kalar in the way he just curled up against the ranger. The movement is what had caused the shift in Fili's positioning. Thorin's younger heir had started murmuring again as he fell asleep last night. He kept repeating the word 'little sister' over and over again in Khuzdul. Kili had always wanted to be a big brother; perhaps he was dreaming.

It also didn't escape Thorin's notice that as the light of day grew brighter, the more the boys shifted to avoid the light. Both Fili and Kili tuck into the ranger in hopes of dodging the sun's rays. It is likely that the boys would be nursing a bad hangover this morning, but it was their own fault and they should have known better. Waking them up would be a chore and Thorin is certain that Kalar would have a laugh at their expense, if given the opportunity.

"They will live," says Thorin good naturedly.

"So where to then?" asks Dwalin. "The wash room is in there, but I don' think all of us will fit."

Thorin sighs as he looks at the breaking daylight, eager for night to fall once more. Once the map is read they could return the road and be rid of the elvish magic permeating the air. As his gaze drifts he sees something through the railing of the balcony. He approaches the edge and looks over it to see a large fountain nestled in the side of the tree. It's a few levels down, but close enough to the camp that if anything were to happen they would be ready quickly. It would see to the company's needs and his men are hardly shy. Thorin smirks as he wonders if the elves would be able to handle it.

"How about there?" asks Thorin. Dwalin rises and comes to examine whatever has garnered his king's attention.

"Thorin, that's a public fountain," says Dwalin stiffly. "You sure you didn't drink any of that wine last night?"

"I am well aware of what it is," says Thorin cheekily. Finally realizing Thorin's plan, Dwalin shakes his head with a grin on his face.

"I'll gather the lads," he says as he puts out his pipe. After one more glance at the fountain, Thorin returns to the room in hopes of recovering his nephews without disturbing the ranger.

* * *

Despite that my body doesn't want to move, I can almost feel the daylight wasting away. So I begrudgingly start to move only to find myself extremely sore. I turn my head left and right only to discover that my companions have disappeared. Nothing suggests foul play and a resounding 'Woohoo!' from outside allay my fears. I sit up to find a plate of bacon, biscuits, and fruit beside my bed roll. Now that I have received proper rest I realize that I am famished.

Even after the feast Bombur provided the night before I'm extremely hungry this morning. I also feel the strong need to relieve myself, but since the food is still hot I decide to partake of that first. I relish the momentary silence as I remove my mask and take in the first slice of bacon. The salty treat agrees with my pallet and makes my stomach rumble with anticipation. The silence is broken by a loud splash from the open balcony. My curiosity gets the better of me and I decide to investigate. I walk to the balcony with a second piece of bacon in my mouth. As I move I can feel the muscles in my legs screaming from both yesterday's battle with the trolls and the sprinting across the plains. My shoulders also ache a little, but it's easier to ignore.

I step out into the light and turn my head towards where I hear yet another splash. I freeze on the spot upon seeing the dwarves frolicking in a public fountain. My pulse picks up and face burns as my mind slowly comes to the conclusion that they are, in fact, naked.

The first thing I actually zero in on is Dwalin who stands outside the fountain with his arms crossed. He watches the others, almost completely dry. At first I just admire the tattoos on his shoulders that match the ones on his head. Before I can look away though his arms move down and his hands settle on his waist, my eyes unconsciously watching the movement.

Before my eyes can wander any lower than where his hands settle, Fili and Kili run past him to the fountain's edge, giving me excellent views of their backsides. The flush on my face spreads to my chest and my jaw lowers, allowing the bacon to fall to the ground. I quickly cover my mouth to prevent any embarrassing shrieks growing in my throat to escape. My body is shaking slightly in embarrassment as I watch the boys play in the fountain. I slowly move back to escape their line of sight and return to the antechamber. However, I'm not fast enough. I catch movement farther up the walk from the direction Fili and Kili had been running from before. My ranger instinct kicks in and I look up. I should have known better…

Oh sweet, Aule! Thorin walks down the stone path to stand beside Dwalin, the latter now blocked from my sight. My entire body becomes inflamed with what must be dragon fire as I lay eyes on the bare king. While, Dwalin is taller than Thorin I can see that it is made up for in muscle mass. His pectoral and bicep muscles are slightly larger than his cousin. His chest has mat of what I would imagine to be coarse, black hair. Much like Dwalin, he appears to be dry and my eyes first go to his tattoos. He has a couple thin lines of dwarf ruins running up his upper arm and shoulder. In the middle of his bicep is a particularly interesting one. From the distance I can tell there is a sword surrounded by a semi circular arch while the sword passes through something. Beneath that, there are a few more markings that almost resemble a crown.

My mind had been blissfully occupied with the ink until he turned. At first I saw the chest hair, with two buds peeking out from beneath, but once I saw the trail of hair going down, spreading out again at his abdomen and reforming a thicker patch at…Oh, Mahal! I just stare at it for a moment before taking a step back, so unsteady that I actually manage to fall on my ass. Now the stone railing blocks my view, but the image of Thorin's sword in now burned into the back of my eyelids. Unwilling to stand and possibly be caught, I drag myself backwards along the ground using my hands to return to the antechamber. Once I'm back inside I release a ragged breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. My face still burns fiercely from the shame of stumbling on the dwarves in such a state.

I have seen many nude men before, the ranger camps made it near impossible to avoid. However, the nudity I had seen had been for the sole purpose of teasing me and thus, made them easy to ignore. Not that I didn't look – I did, if nothing than to stop blushing every time a fellow ranger had to bathe. The difference this time is that the company is entirely unaware of my gender as well as my presence. I had worked hard to not look when they were taking a leak, for their honor's sake. Now I feel as though it had all been in vain as the image of Thorin has been burned into my brain. Mahal had certainly gifted his children…

Trying to move on and forget what I had seen, otherwise I would never be able to face the company again; I make my way to the washroom. I abandon my breakfast in favor for relieving myself. I close the door behind me and pass by a large stone basin that resembled a natural pool. I head to the glorified chamber pot in the corner, vaguely wondering where the hobbit might be. I hadn't seen him outside and he clearly wasn't in here. At the thought of outside, I can't help wondering: Why did they have to do that in a fountain of all things? What in the name of the creators are they thinking?

Once my business is done I test out the water in the pool. It's cold, and likely that no one has used in a long while. I close my eyes, trying to decide whether or not I want to bathe, when another image of Thorin appears and I become uncomfortably warm. A small quiver travels from the tip of my ears all the way down to my toes. How could I not at least consider it? Thorin is…bigger than the men at the camp. I have never taken a lover – my lifestyle is too demanding and I will not allow anyone to touch me that I do not trust. Amongst the camps there had been a couple prospective men, but with the way things turned out it's no longer an option. This is the first time I've ever seen a dwarf in such a state, however. It's a wonder that the women didn't hoard their men in the mountain instead of the other way around. When another small shudder travels down my spine I make a snap decision.

I began removing my armor and clothes as if they were on fire instead of my skin. I can't imagine trying to face the dwarves in this particular state so an icy bath may be just what I need to recover. Once my wrap and under things are removed I practically jump into the pool. The cool temperature of the water is enough to give me gooseflesh on contact and I gasp when I resurface.

The water does little to soothe my aching muscles, but works wonders on my burning flesh. I release a small sigh of relief, but ultimately the thoughts don't leave me. I grab a vial of oil resting on a table beside the pool as I try to think of something else. I suddenly think of the day I met Morinehtar…I guess it's the cold water…

* * *

 _I had been lying there for what felt like an age. I had given up moving altogether; with both of my legs broken I couldn't make it past the pain. Where would I go anyway? So I watched as the sunlight peaked through the crack in the ice I had fallen through. I thought of my mother and father as I lay there dying slowly. I wondered if they would forgive me…_

 _A small shuffle at the corner of the cave caught my attention. I looked over, anticipating an enemy, but when I turn my head I saw an old man dressed in dark blue robes and a staff in his hand. He had a long white beard and matching hair hidden beneath a blue hat. His eyes were a bright green color, like spring. He was watching me, surprised at my presence. He looked normal, but…what was an old man doing up here?_

" _Who are you?" I whimpered. I can now recall wondering if I was dreaming or if the fall actually killed me. If that was true then why was I in so much pain?_

" _I am someone that this world has left behind," he responded. "And who are you?"_

" _I'm afraid."_

" _What are you afraid of?" he asked curiously._

" _If I die my mother will not welcome me into the Halls of Our Fathers, but if I live...," I said with small tears falling from my eyes. I tried to move my legs again only to experience shooting pain. "It really hurts."_

" _I can only imagine your pain little one. Not many can experience this much so quickly and still stay so strong," he commented as he moved to my side._

" _I don't want to be strong," I cried harder. "I want to go home."_

" _But you can't go home…can you?"_

" _No," I sniffle. How did he know?_

" _I cannot return your home or your family to you, but if you want I can give you a gift," he said gently. He was looking over my legs now, realizing they must be broken._

" _A gift?"_

" _Yes. It will take a little while to teach you how to use it properly, but what you do with it is entirely up to you."_

" _I don't know," I said. He sounded awfully vague, as if he's not telling me everything, but I'm so tired and hurt I can't think of anything else to say._

" _It's alright little one. You don't need to answer just yet. First we will see to your wounds." He put his hands over my legs and the pain flares to near unbearable and I let out a scream, but it almost immediately subsides. The wizard then proceeded to pick me up and carry me back the way he'd come. I slept most of the way, enjoying the way he smelled of a spring rain and pipeweed._

 _I had been entirely unaware of the underground caves this far north and even to this day I haven't explored all of the caves. I wake again when we reach an underground pool. He set me down near the water and begins to leave after looking over my legs once more._

" _Wash away your troubles for now, little one," he murmured. "Come find me when you are done so that you may rest. Tomorrow you can decide your future, little Tahna."_

 _He left me alone with so many questions, but for now I don't bother to think. I disrobe for my first real bath in almost a year. The water is cold, but it felt good, being numb._

* * *

I remain submerged for a few seconds more before resurfacing. Despite the tension my body still holds, my mind is extremely calm now. The quiet of the room, my sobering thoughts, and the cold water put me in a comfortably numb state. Most of the oil has washed off at this point so I reach out for more when I hear a small gasp behind me, so small and so quiet I almost didn't hear it. An intruder.

I throw the bottle blindly in the direction of the gasp to buy myself some time. The 'thunk' of glass and a low groan are my reward as I leap out of the water. My vambraces are mercifully close and I remove one of my daggers. The sneak is still dazed so I tackle him and put my dagger at his throat. My knees pin his elbows and my shins put the rest of my body weight on his abdomen. One hand fists his tunic and pushes him down while the dagger rests above his artery.

My confidence and assured victory in having taken the intruder down, begins drains as I begin to recognize his features. First it was the thick, black mane of hair and then his short cropped beard. I already know who it is, but I'm not willing to look him in the eye yet so I stare down at his dark blue tunic with a blush on my cheeks. After a moment of silence I look up at his face. Unsurprisingly, he's not looking at my face and my blush begins to spread…again! I clear my throat to regain his attention.

"If it is any consolation, this is not the worst way anyone has ever found out about this."

* * *

 **I am a troll...also go to google and look up Thorin's tattoo in the images. You'll see what I'm talking about.**


	14. A Confounding Outlook

**Hey everyone. I actually got to properly edit this one before it got out! Yay! More back story and more nudity in this one. I tried to get Thorin's reaction right in this one, but if you don't like it feel free to message me about it. My beta has been MIA for a while so I could use the extra help. Anyway thank you so much everyone for your reviews on the last chapter it. All of your kind words really made my day and is getting me through some rough days.**

 **angel897, silkissez, Christina Fey, ReiVin, lillisa34, Crazygirl8243, shishiwastaken, Taboo22 and animexchick** – _Thank you for the kind words and I'm glad you liked it!_

 **QueefCream** – _I had considered it, but I now have other plans for Bilbo. MUWAHAHA!_

 **Outofthisworldgal** _– So much Durin goodness! I hoped it held you over!_

 **0x0UnderDog0x0** _– I hope I don't disappoint._

 **An Echo In Time** _– Oh gosh! I'm glad you liked it. There might be a little more blushing in this chapter…Maybe…_

 **Lesliezin** – _Oh my gosh I'm so sorry I didn't respond to your review. I meant to and I really have no good excuse. You might not have liked anyway because I might have fangirled! I love your story so much! Would you hate me if I promote it? I hope you like this chapter!_

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She's getting to the intense part!**

 **Also, one of my reviewers from the last chapter is Lesliezin. I absolutely love her Thorin/OC story: A Shadowed Companion. It's a female ranger who follows the company at Gandalf's request. All should read, it's fantastic and I can't wait for the next chapter.**

* * *

 _My father picked me up and carried me from the stables back out into the yard where Neir was waiting. Without warning the building collapsed and we watched the make-shift pyre burn Gaellyn's body. Part of me was sad, not because he had died, but because of the realization that for all of the years I had known Gaellyn – it had been nothing, but lies. The man I thought I knew simply didn't exist and it left a cold and hollow feeling within me._

 _I saw the bodies of the boys who had defended me nearby and I realized that it was wrong for me to grieve for their murderer. I should be mourning the innocent people he had killed, but I cannot bring myself to forget Gaellyn either. The memory of the man I grew up knowing was too strong and my shame was great._

 _Neir saw my distress and placed the two horses he had saddled in my line of sight. With my view of the bodies blocked, I return my attention to my father and uncle. Anything to temporarily block out the pain._

" _What happened to the tunnels?" my father asked demandingly. For a moment I thought he was talking to me, but my uncle cut in before I could form words._

" _Gaellyn gave them the exit points of the tunnels. Practically everyone inside was slaughtered," Neir remarked, his voice uncharacteristically broken. "He gave them the women and children. Damn him!"_

" _He's rotting in the Void as we speak," my father snarled. I felt his hand tighten on mine and I reciprocated to placate him. "Did Aceia and Amara make it out?"_

" _I managed to send Aceia to the Weeping Stones with Altor," Neir swallowed hard before continuing, "But Amara went to the shelters like she was supposed to."_

 _A momentary silence passed in respect of my aunt's passing. I don't remember much of her now, except the winter afternoons she stayed indoors with Aceia and I, but I recall the lump that had settled in my throat at the time. Then I think of my mother, who had been above ground at the time the tunnels were overrun. There was still a chance!_

" _Papa! Mother was above ground when the tunnels were taken," I said quickly. "We need to go get her!"_

 _The look of hope that flashed through my father's eyes spurred me to pull him back towards the main street and take him to the safe house where I'd last seen her. The sooner we went to look for her the sooner we could leave. However, my uncle saw things differently._

" _It's not likely that she's there any more, Tahna," he said gently. "Most of the houses were overrun."_

" _She had me leave," I cried out in protest. "I made it out by jumping on the rooftops. She said she was right behind me so maybe she did the same." I could tell from the look on his face that he had already given up. I'm sure that the loss of his wife was painful beyond belief, but I couldn't afford to give into my sorrow. She was my mother and I wouldn't leave her behind._

" _Tahna," my father called. I looked up at him and I am relieved that he didn't share my uncle's view. "I'm going back for your mother, but I need you to go with your uncle. I know you want to find your mother, but it's too dangerous right now for both of us to go. I promise to find you once I find her."_

 _Despite the promise, tears welled up in my eyes. I understood what he meant and what he wanted, but that didn't make the fear of being left behind any easier to bear. My eyes must have communicated this because he picked me up and held me tightly. He started handing me off to my uncle when a loud horn sounded. We looked around, trying to discern its origin, but came up empty handed._

" _It's an orc horn," my uncle deduced. "It's a call of victory." There was a low rumble, like thunder, coming back from up the street. My father and uncle moved us and the horses back behind an untouched silo of grain as we waited for whatever was approaching to pass. I kept crouched watching around the silo with caution. My father and uncle withdrew their swords and stayed at the ready._

 _Suddenly orcs flood the main street and burst through the gate with their wargs. Their speed is dizzying as the escape the dying city. The ones that are on foot are nowhere near as fast, but as they follow the others out they too seem just as frightening. They howl and shriek triumphantly as they leave Imelkane to burn. Among the masses, I see him once more; the large pale orc from before. His sinister face is twisted into a terrifying grin as he watches his soldiers flee the dead city. The only thing more alarming than him at the moment is the person in his arms._

 _My mother was unconscious and her head was bleeding. She rested in the crook of the orc's remaining arm. She was wearing only her shift and her sword was missing. Blood covered one side of her face, staining the top of the white fabric and her eyes were closed. There was more blood further down on the dress and at first I thought he had stabbed her. My father's breathing stopped as he spotted her as well. The orc called to his soldiers in the black speech and soon they relinquished the city to the elements, with my mother as his prize. My father tried to bolt out after them, but there were just too many orcs and my uncle had to hold him back. Not even my father could take on an army of orcs…_

 _Once the sound had completely dissipated we removed ourselves from our hiding spot. My father looked out at the gate with sudden rage in his brown eyes._

" _They have her, Neir," he growled. "She's alive."_

" _That was the Defiler, Kalar," my uncle said, shaken. "She will not last long."_

" _There was blood on her thighs. He raped her," my father shook with rage. "I will tear Azog apart with my bare hands!"_

" _You can't risk it, Kalar. Not with Tahna here. Believe me I would ride with you in an instant, but we both have our daughters to think about," said Neir. "We cannot save the dead."_

" _BUT SHE LIVES!" Kalar shouted back. "I will not leave her to those monsters. I will not let them break her, Neir!"_

 _There was a moment of pause where I can almost see and certainly feel the struggle between my father and my uncle. My uncle only wanted to protect what little family we have left, but my father who loves my mother beyond measure couldn't leave her in the hands of the orc. When it ended my uncle released a large sigh._

" _Very well, brother. I wish you luck and send you all of my prayers, for you will need them all," said my uncle. He clasped hands with my father in a show of goodwill and my father also added a nod._

" _Where will you go so that I can find you when I return?" asked my father gravely._

" _I will go to the Weeping Stones to collect the rest of our kin. From there I will lead them to Thoth where the rest of my encampment is temporarily staying. I will stay there and wait for you as long as I can."_

" _Very well then; Tahna-" my father tried._

" _I'm coming with you father," I said defiantly._

" _No you are not," he growled. As much as my father is intimidating to most other men, he didn't scare me when he was mad; at least not as much as my mother._

" _Yes I am! She is my mother and I will help you save her!"_

" _You would only be in the way and I will not lose you as well, Tahna!" my father shouted._

" _If you try to leave me behind, I will follow you. If Uncle Neir takes me to the Weeping Stones I will find a way back when he isn't looking. You know I can and I will! I will not leave her to die, papa!" I yelled right back._

 _At the time, I thought I knew what I was getting into, but I didn't know then what waited before us. There are moments…when I'm sitting next to Wildwind and watching the stars above, thinking of my parents…I would wish my father had said no…or that maybe Gaellyn hadn't indulged his guilty conscious._

" _Very well, but you stay close and you do everything I say. Do you understand?"_

" _Kalar! You can't be serious! Tahna is only a child; she cannot survive where you are going. Would you risk your daughter?! Would you see her die?"_

 _The pair of us ignore my uncle's enraged rant. I can see in his deep brown eyes that I hurt him, but he knew that I would have done my best to follow. Neir couldn't watch both Aceia and I at the same time. I was also aware that being out in the open on my own was dangerous, but the thought of leaving my mother out here at the mercy of the orcs gave me courage. I would have faced a dragon to save my mother…in some ways a dragon would have been easier._

 _I maintained our eye contact to give my father a nod of confirmation. He held his hand out, which I quickly took a hold of. I was hoisted up onto the brown stallion and my father settled in behind me. Before we make any distance, my uncle's hand shot out to grab my forearm. Realizing that my father was beyond reason, my uncle thought to find it with me._

" _Tahna, do not be foolish. What good can you do? You are just a child. Do you not understand the danger your father intends to face? He will be riding to Gundabad," he stated. He is pleading with me, begging with me to change my mind. How I wish my child self would have listened to him, but in that moment nothing could have changed my mind._

 _Gundabad was to us what Mordor is to the children of Gondor. Every horrifying creature of every scary story we were told as children supposedly came from the stone fortress of Gundabad. It is a place where darkness lives and cruelty is common practice. Malicious orcs would relish their own depravity and the sinister deeds that actually took place there were not allowed to be spoken of by the warriors who braved further north._

 _However, my thoughts were that: there was only a chance that I would die. If I did nothing my mother would surely die._

" _We will return soon, uncle," I said._

 _It was then my uncle started to cry. Tears began to fill his golden eyes, turning the area around them an angry red. It was as if my words had sealed away all hope he had of protecting me. This would not be the last time I hurt him, but I think it was one of the worst. The only time it may have been worse was when I snuck away in the night after Neir had refused to train me as a ranger, but I never saw him after that so I wouldn't know…_

 _With that my father spurred the horse toward the gate. Along the way we pass what remained of Traehan. He had been opened and gutted, his eyes still wide with frozen fear. His mouth was still open midscream when he died. I closed my eyes and look away. Despite the sudden bout of nausea from the sight, it strengthened my resolve. I would save my mother…or at least that's what I had thought._

 _We ride along the outside of the wall to reach the northern trail next to the mountains on the north end of the city. The metal exterior shields us from seeing the burning city on the other side. It was easier, I suppose, not seeing the city that had once been our home burn to the ground._

 _While we rode I could still hear the crackling of the fire and the splintering of buildings that collapsed under the damage. Some of the bodies would burn if they had died within and the tunnels would eventually collapse, bringing the flames inside. Others would become frozen in the streets of the city; but none would ever receive a proper funeral._

 _One of forges must have caught fire inside the wall because we passed a segment that had been heated and wrent. The inescapable heat of the wood created bubbles on the dark metal exterior. I was looking over the damage as we passed when a pale flake lands on my face. At first I think the storm we had been anticipating earlier this morning had finally arrived. However, when I tried to wipe it from my face, my fingers came away smudged grey. Ashes…_

 _I quickly thought of Gaellyn and the inferno that had consumed him. I panicked at the thought that the ash on my face was Gaellyn. I tried to wipe both it and other ashes from my face, but they stick to the dried blood on my face. Gaellyn's blood. Blood and ashes…ashes and blood. More tears started falling down my face. My father saw my distress and took one hand to wrap it around my smaller hands. I didn't even realize I was shaking before…_

 _Once we reached the path that would lead us deeper into the Grey Mountains, we were finally high enough to see the inside of the city. We stopped momentarily to watch the thick clouds reflect the light of the decimated city. All at once our glass Citadel exploded from the expansion of the heat inside, fighting to reach the cool air outside. Further away there was a deafening 'crack' as the Centennial Tower fell over and into the city below. It fed the smaller flames in the city like a corpse to maggots._

" _Don't look back anymore, Tahna," said Kalar coolly. "We cannot change what happened. They are gone, but we still live. We must learn to move forward. Right now your mother needs us. She is why we must live. Do you understand?"_

 _I said nothing, but I did as my father instructed and turn my head away from the massive grave of my people. My father nudged the horse forward and we enter the mountain pass in silence. Once we were far enough away, it was clear that there really was snow coming down. We only made it a few hours before we had to stop…_

 _I never saw Imelkane again. I did it to honor my father's advice, but also because there was no reason. What's the point of tearing open old wounds? After all was said and done I had given myself purpose. Even after my parent's death…_

* * *

Thorin couldn't stop thinking about the fear and sorrow the young boy, who became the ranger, must have felt in aftermath of his home's destruction. He recalls his own reaction at the Gate of Erebor while the city burned inside. He had felt so lost and scared…

His eyes settle on a part of the water that beautifully reflected the sun's light, but his mind is on Imelkane. Balin spoke of the great city and its people often. It was the greatest kingdom of men in the north, but much like Erebor even that too fell.

"Uncle?"

In place of the water Thorin had been watching stands his heir. Water drips from his soaking hair and looks at Thorin with concern in his eyes. Fili's fingers thread through his moustache skillfully forming braids so that he may replace the beads. He is so young, but the heartfelt nature he exhibits would make him a great king one day when Thorin passed.

"It is nothing. Ignore me," says Thorin. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much," he smiles at his uncle. The boys had been very hard to wake up and to get them outside, even harder. Once they had realized Thorin's intent they warmed up to the idea and had even managed a short run to the fountain. Master Baggins, on the other hand, had been extremely embarrassed by their behavior and took to the Hall of Fire, claiming he would take a bath later. Most of the dwarves have already clambered out, but are lazily rebraiding their hair in the warm sun or washing their clothes.

"Uncle, I would like to ask you again for permission to bind Kalar to the Line of Durin. If not as a brother, than as a brother in arms," asks Fili. "Kili and I were too out of it last night to hear the tale he wove, but from what we heard from the others…Please at least consider it."

Even without Fili's request, Thorin has considered inviting the ranger to stay after the quest since forgoing his personal fears about the ranger. Kalar had family in Thoth, but he clearly has no intention of returning and for some reason or another he had forgone the security of his ranger camp. Maybe he would like to stay with them when everything was over…

"I will consider it," offers Thorin. Fili's face lights up in excitement and swiftly moves to join his brother on the other side of the pool with Dwalin. If Thorin intends to pretend nothing is wrong with the ranger that includes his nephew's request to bind him to Line of Durin.

Thorin looks up at the sun and after realizing how much time has truly passed he leaves the soothing water and moves to pick up his clothes. Dori has already seen to washing most of the company's garments, leaving the dirtier pieces to the others' discretion. As he starts buckling up his trousers he wonders if the boy is awake yet.

"I will head back and check on Kalar," says Thorin as he tugs on his tunic. His hair is loosely pulled back by a piece of leather as he waits for it to dry.

"Do you want us to come with ya?" asks Dwalin as he momentarily steps back from the brothers who have started quite the water fight.

"No," he says assuredly. "The elves would not make a move against us now and with the ranger…I am in safe hands."

"Alright, suite yerself. Brothers in arms we may be, but I must say I rather enjoy taking a break from having to protect yer royal arse," says Dwalin as he slips back into the pool. Balin, who hears the remark his younger brother makes to his king, soundly cuffs him on the ear from the edge Dwalin is leaning on.

Thorin chuckles lowly as he ascends the stairs that reach their balcony, feeling relatively refreshed. He feels physically lighter now, knowing that they will have the answers they seek by the morrow. When he reaches the top of the stairs he notices a piece of bacon upon the ground. When he first sees it, he finds it odd, but assumes the ranger must be awake.

"Kalar?" he asks upon entering the room. There is no reply. More cautious now, he enters the room quietly. He checks the sleeping rolls, just to make sure the ranger hadn't fallen asleep a second time. He finds it empty and the strange mask sitting off just to the side of it. The small plate of food Bofur had made for the lad when he woke is still there as well, almost completely untouched. Another quick look about the room and Thorin deduces he is not there. However, he doubts the ranger would just wander off without telling them. Perhaps he is in one of the side rooms…

Thorin decides to start with the washroom. It seems like a logical place to start. "Kalar?" he calls again after opening the door. He moves forward slightly to look around for any sign of the ranger. He is about to leave when he notices Kalar's black trousers strewn about haphazardly on the stone floor. Thorin makes his way over to them, not noticing the door has almost shut itself completely. As he gets closer he sees more of the ranger's clothing along the ground. Amongst them there are an odd set of bandages…Had the ranger been injured the night before?

It doesn't seem likely, what with the wrestling match he had with Fili. Something is off and Thorin's instincts are telling him to leave. The hair on the back of his neck is sticking up as he realized the ranger would be naked. It would easily confirm the theory Thorin has developed, but it would also shatter the feigned ignorance Thorin has decided to enjoy. If he is right it would also mean Thorin faces a difficult choice. For the moment, the ranger isn't in sight. He tries to make his way back to the door, when there is a small splash from the pool beside him. He freezes and turns.

He can see that the top half of the ranger's body has breached the surface of the water where he must have been submerged. Kalar's back is facing him as he runs his finger through his hair, which has grown very quickly over the last month or so. The dark brown locks are finally reaching his shoulders, much to the company's approval.

Rather than startle the ranger he opens his mouth to at least announce his presence, but all at once the air rushes out in a low gasp. The ranger has leaned to the side of the pool to grasp at a small vial of oil, from the assortment provided by the elves. That's when he sees "it." With the ranger just high enough out of the water and the angle of lean, the obvious swell of a breast could be seen underneath the ranger's arm. As he – she turns to get a better grasp on the oil; Thorin also manages to see a hardened nub of a nipple peaking out of the water.

Thorin's whole body is rigid at this point; a mixture of shock and embarrassment. So when the girl hears his sudden gasp, he hardly expects the glass vial to come flying towards his face. The glass doesn't hurt him as much as it surprises him. Fortunately, it doesn't break on impact, but it does force him to grunt and take a small step back. He moves his hand up to rub the angry spot on his forehead, but by that time she has already made it out of the water. She quickly pins him and puts one of her knives to his throat, forcing Thorin's back onto the hard stone. This time the force of the collision stings and forces a small hiss through his teeth. His first reaction is to bring up his hands and push her off of him, but he finds his hands pinned by her knees. He looks up, prepared to tell her to get off of him, but what he sees has him still instantly. The knife to his throat should have been what made him so complacent, but if he is entirely honest with himself, that isn't it…

When Thorin tries to look at the knife, his eyes went beyond it and towards the rest of her weight that had settled on his chest. He unconsciously starts staring rather blatantly at the thick, dark patch of hair between her legs. It's thick enough that he is unable to see much of the skin beneath. As if it were beard…He can feel the heat flare up in his face and his eyes start to move upward. He passes over her bare abdomen and makes note of the scars on top of her hip and the one along the side of one of her…

His eyes widen and heart picks up speed as he takes in the woman's breasts. The scar he had been following didn't make it the whole way around, but did stop right at one of the nubs he had seen earlier. Overall, they are not overtly large, but they are…rounder than some he had seen. Most certainly larger than those of dwarrow women, who are built to be flatter like the men. When she speaks he realizes just how much he has been staring.

"If it is any consolation," she starts, "this is not the worst way anyone has ever found out about this."

Feeling guilty and glad that his beard hid the worst his blush, he manages to pull his gaze away from her chest and towards her face. She is flushed and her lips are slightly parted to allow silent breathes to pass between. Her pupils have dilated from the battle song in her blood, meaning Thorin has legitimately surprised her. The golden eyes Thorin has become accustomed to are now much darker than he recalls having seen them. The entirety of her face is framed with the dark brown of her hair. With it now clean the ends have begun to curl and the dampness makes it many shades darker. A small droplet forms on a particular strand that Thorin is watching. He watches as it lands on her shoulder and before it joins another drop. They collect more as they make their way further down-

"Thorin!" she calls.

His eyes once more return to her face to see that the blush on her own cheeks has brightened. She quickly retracts the knife and her body from his person. He is surprised at how cold he becomes so quickly, their brief time in the compromising position brought Thorin warmth throughout his body. She is very warm despite the frigid water dripping from her person and once removed caused Thorin to shiver. The ranger tosses the knife off to the side and it resounds with a loud clatter. He only manages to take in the whole of her nakedness for a second before she turns away. Thorin sits up and allows for his eyes to mindlessly follow her. He has time to make note of the small scatters of scars along her right shoulder. He must have missed it before when her back was turned. In fairness there had been…other things that had stolen the dwarf king's attention.

Before he could properly form a statement she bent over to collect a towel – giving him a view of her ass. He is surprised at how full the flesh appears and appreciates the curvature. Thorin had no reason to examine the ranger's backside before this, but he wonders how he missed something so obvious.

She wraps the towel around her tightly before turning back to him. She raises an eyebrow in his direction, prompting him to say or do something. Then he realizes he has hardly moved and begins to pick himself up off the ground.

"Have you nothing to say?" she asks. "I must say your silence is most terrifying." She moves towards the door and closes it fully now to give them some privacy.

"There is nothing to say," he replies hoarsely. His mouth had gone dry after her surprise attack, so his first words are a little rough.

"You have known for a while haven't you?" she asks. She walks back and takes up perch on a small stool. She starts running her fingers through her damp hair, again, in hopes of untangling some of it. "I'm surprised you haven't said anything before this. Why didn't you?"

"I…"

What is he to say? If he says he knew it would mean he had willingly endangered her life. But if he says he didn't know it would mostly be a lie, and he has a feeling she would know. Either way he would be trapped. Rather than answer he looks at the continuation of the scar from the back of her shoulder to the front. Small little marks…A bite of some kind. Beside it is the end of the scar that stops from the very top of her lip. Three long lines start at the collarbone and the single middle scar stops at the top of her lip. When he sees her waiting eyes with a quirked eyebrow he brings a hand to his face to prevent further distraction. Now he has to force himself to make a decision he had been hoping to avoid. What should he do?

"You seem to be at war with yourself, my king," replies the girl. "A copper for your thoughts?"

"What makes you think I would share my thoughts with you?" he grumbles.

"They are of me are they not? Perhaps speaking them aloud will provide you with some clarity."

The woman grabs her socks off the ground before she begins to put them on. Thorin's hand has returned to his side as he watches. Her hand drawing the wool material up over her pale calves. He uses the heat creeping up his neck as a reason to refuse her any satisfaction in regards to her request.

"You ought to wash those," he says indifferently. "They reek of troll and wargs."

Her head snaps up to look at him with an amazed smirk on her face. "My dirty socks are what weigh so heavily on your mind?" she smiles. "Are you sure you're not part hobbit?"

Thorin fought hard against the twitch of his lips and won, but in order to do that he stops making eye contact. His gaze instead watches her reflection in the pool. It is much easier to look at than her, with her bright eyes and smiling face.

"I will wash my clothes later with more privacy," she says, her tone more serious now. "If the rest of the company returns I would rather not be discovered in such a state of undress." In the small pool it looks like she might be blushing, but he doesn't dare look at her to find out.

"So you have purposefully been hiding it?" he asks accusatorily. She doesn't spare him a glance as she collects her trousers and remains standing.

"Only just," she replies. "You and the others merely assumed my gender and made your own conclusions; not that I mind. It makes easier for us to travel that way and it serves me well. I don't need to hide what I am because the company only sees what they want to see. I have become an asset to this company and rather than think I'm a woman they ignore it. They don't want me to leave and you are no exception."

Thorin growls at the ranger's blunt jab at what Thorin already knows to be true. It disturbs Thorin that the ranger has somehow read his thoughts. The dwarf lord prides himself on keeping his thoughts hidden, but it is apparent that the ranger either has a sense of knowing or he is not nearly as composed as he thought.

"You assume much," Thorin growls.

"Not an assumption as much as an observation," she states calmly. The towel rides up as she replaces her pants, giving Thorin one last look at the patch of hair on her groin. He gives a grunt of annoyance in hopes of hiding the groan at the back of his throat. He is not unaccustomed to the anatomy of human women, but he knew nothing about them outside of their…joining. He knows Kalar – if that is her name – rather intimately. They have shared much more than Thorin has ever given or received from any woman; dwarrow or human.

"And who is it that observes us? I now doubt you are who you say you are. And the story you have given us may be nothing more than lies to further-"

"I HAVE NOT LIED!" she shouts suddenly, turning to meet his eyes on the water. She couldn't have known he watched her on the water, but her eyes met his on the still surface. Her jaw is clenched, revealing teeth. The overall gesture is predatory, but Thorin easily reads the mixture of emotion in her eyes. There is sorrow, anger, pain, and regret. Her body and mind bend against each other in their desires; she clearly wants to attack him, but she reigns herself in. After a moment passes, the reflection breaks her gaze and returns to attaching her belt, the two hilts still bound to it.

"Everything I have told you has been truthful," she states tiredly. "Even if it is only half of the full truth, it is true none the less. I have not lied to a single member of this company."

Despite the newest revelation…Thorin believes her. A brief silence passes as he accepts the fact that she wouldn't likely lie about her tale. Especially after the amount of detail she had given…but surly not everything is as she said…

"Surely your parents did not name you Kalar…What is your name?" he asks more gently now.

She sits back down to put on her boots, "Just as you are Thorin, son of Thrain, I am Tahna, daughter of Kalar. I merely provide the better half of my name. Even my fellow rangers used after discovering my being a girl. It actually stands for something…"

Tahna…It suits her. Ignoring her last statement, Thorin's eyes finally turn away from the ranger's watery doppelganger to look at the real thing. She has finished lacing up her other boot and looks up at him with her large golden eyes. Once before he had thought them molten, as if they were smelting gold in a forge. Now, they seem hard and cold as they watch him carefully.

"This is not what I expected from you," she says. "While I was not anticipating anything too drastic, I'm surprised you have retained such calm, especially after the welcome you received."

Thorin's cheeks heat lightly, "Did you expect me to raise my voice at you like an angry child? I'm not so easily aggravated as that, though I confess that I was taken off guard…"

She pauses momentarily as she moves for her tunic and jerkin. It's hard to miss the small flush of her cheeks, regardless of her tanned flesh.

"I had not heard you from under the water and I did as I would with any other attacker," she says as she removes the towel fully to bandage her breasts. "I am sorry for putting my knife to your throat."

Thorin watches her hands move quickly around the quivering masses and he momentarily has a hard time swallowing. "Have you no boundaries, woman?" says Thorin as he looks away. "In any case you are forgiven. It is not every day you find yourself set upon by a naked woman in a washroom."

Her blush increases as she lets out a small chuckle, "Then you do not know many rangers, Master Oakenshield. I used to have to keep my guard up constantly in the camps."

This news concerns Thorin slightly, but he cannot really afford to let it show. "But out here, surrounded by elves is so different?" he counters.

"You and the company are close at hand if the need arose," she answers easily before her face turned and intense shade of red. "In fairness, I was also distracted."

"By what?" he asks curiously.

"I would rather not say," she answers, unable to meet his gaze. She then brings the tunic over her person, momentarily blocking the view of her face. He sees that the bandages only compress so much. The jerkin and the chest plate must do most of the work because the bandages sure don't. "Besides," she adds, "we have other matters we must discuss."

"Oh?" Thorin says dully.

"Shall we or shall we not inform the others before we move on?" she asks as she laces together the jerkin.

"I never said anything about allowing you to continue the journey to Erebor," he retorts. She turns to look back at him. Her elbows prop themselves on her knees and her hands entwine beneath her chin.

"But you have and you will," she says calmly. Her plain tone eerily reminds him of the elves and has him bristling hatefully. "You knew or at least suspected the whole truth quite early on this journey. Why? Because you know that the skills and protection I offer this company are worth it."

She pulls up the chest plate and begins to buckle it as Thorin watches. He knew Tahna was right, but he couldn't bring himself to admit that. He had thought that by holding suspicions without voicing them, it prevented him from being in the wrong one way or another. But what if that, in and of itself is wrong? By letting this go on for so long had he subconsciously keeping the ranger in the company? Was he really so selfish? Was he really so greedy?...Was the Gold Sickness already influencing his decisions? Would this girl be his first victim?

A cold stab of fear enters the dwarf's heart. When he looks back at her, he sees her readjusting her vambraces onto her arms. As if sensing his eyes, she looks up at him almost immediately. When their eyes meet, Thorin must have revealed the overwhelming sense of guilt he carries because she moves on with her conclusion.

"I also noticed you worried about me smelling of troll earlier. Now why would you worry about that unless I am to remain within smelling distance?" she says with a lighter tone and a small smile.

Despite the light-hearted gesture, Thorin still feels disgusted with himself for letting this go on for so long. The fact that he would throw this girl at a dragon…He looks at her again and really begins to look at her. After the jest she made her eyes are a little warmer and the small smile, despite having only seen it for the first time yesterday, suited her. She has so much life ahead of her and after leaving behind such a dark past; what right did he have to take it from her? He should leave her behind.

"For one who is often so silent, Thorin Oakenshield, your thoughts are unbearably loud," she states. "There is no need for such self-loathing. I chose this path and I will follow it, and you for that matter, to whatever end."

"You shouldn't," he snorts.

"Perhaps not," she responds, "but then again there is much in life we shouldn't do. Since the fall of Imelkane I have always chosen to do what others say I shouldn't do. Why should I stop now?" She stands up, fully dressed, and it is the form Thorin has best come to know. "It is decided then. We will not tell the others."

She did not ask him, but she didn't need to either. Much as she stated earlier, she is an asset Thorin could not yet part with. It hurt him to admit it, even if it was only to himself. The idea that he would bring about her death tortured him endlessly. However, such a burden would be his to bear and no one else's. He is the leader of this company and this is his decision to make. She is his responsibility.

"Besides," she starts again, "We can't let Lord Elrond read your map, can we?"

Thorin's heart jumps. He had almost completely forgotten the map. Kalar – Tahna is the only one who can read it. How could he have forgotten? He really could not separate her from the quest anymore. Apparently, in his feigned ignorance he had also allowed this girl to become vital to the success of this journey. She retrieves the knife she had tossed away carelessly before and slides it back into her vambrace. He looks up at her once more and their eyes meet. There is so much left unsaid that Thorin wishes to say, but cannot form the words under her golden gaze.

So with strenuous resignation he nods. It is the best he can do for now with so much riding on the ranger's assistance. He must for the sake of the company, his nephews, and if he is entirely honest-

"There ya are, lads," says Balin as sweeps into the wash chamber. Dwalin and Dori follow closely behind him, surveying the pair worriedly. "We were wondering where you had wandered off to."

"Nowhere, Master Balin," says Tahna. "We were merely discussing the map and journey ahead." Thorin is beginning to see how Tahna made her half truths. He feels dishonest allowing her to make that statement to his advisor, but truly nothing she said had been false.

"Ah, yes," says Balin with a large smile on his face. "I eagerly await for moonrise. I feel like a dwarfling going to his first tournament. Soon the mountain will be ours again, I am sure of it." A stone settles in Thorin's stomach at those words. He never intended for this to happen when he followed the ranger that night. She smiles and continues to converse with Balin. Dwalin, however, recognizes Thorin's discomfort immediately and opens his mouth to speak when Gandalf enters the room hurriedly.

"Lord Elrond is prepared to meet with you now," he says directly to Thorin, "Best make ready." He turns to Tahna now, "You will be coming with us to apologize and so that I may keep an eye on you."

The ranger gives a defiant snort before making for the antechamber. She stops momentarily to accept her mask when Fili offers it up to her. With the image still fresh in his mind he can't help noticing the curve of her backside as she leaves.

"Ya alright there, Thorin?" asks Dwalin as he approaches his king.

"Yes," Thorin lies.

"That's a load," Dwalin says. Thorin hasn't been able to lie to him since he was a child, but luckily Dwalin took the hint. "I don't know what's got you like this, but I trust ya. Anyway, let's hurry up and get this over with. Maybe if we're lucky, Kalar will knock a couple more heads, aye?"

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 **I did my best trying to think how Thorin would react in this situation, but if you think I did it wrong let me know. I'm always happy with a little bit of criticism.**


	15. Author's Notice

Alright everyone. I'm sure you were hoping for an update, but here is the situation:

I have a total of two weeks of school left before finals week. I really need the time left to fix things because my grades have been absolutely horrible this semester and I need to dedicate more time to studying. Especially since my professors have committed the cardinal sin of changing the syllabus on me just before finals week. Two of my exams have now become take-home so I need to work on those.

My work is picking up because we are ordering books for next semester and my boss just figured out that the Saturdays they had been putting me on for the past 2 MONTHS were unnecessary.

I only have three pages written for the next part and rather than give you something half-assed I ask that you please bear with me.

As you can tell I have been rather stressed lately and I am actually questioning the last chapter. I have been second guessing myself a lot lately. I'm not stopping the story, but I do need a little more time for this. Therefore, I will not be able to update until finals are over; that for me in December 17th. I promise I'm not done and I have a lot of great ideas, but I have some other things to take care of before I can focus on this…Sorry about that everyone. I'll take this notice down when I update again.


	16. Of Men and Elves

**Hey everyone. I am so sorry for my extended leave. I got through my finals and passed everything with C's – which I didn't want, but will accept. Then once I got home for Christmas I got the flu. Yay! Christmas present from nature was being sick… :P**

 **Then I was thrown back to school two weeks early and was put down at work for 40 hours a week. Now school has started once more and I do have a capstone this semester so I have a lot to get done. However, I should be back to my biweekly upload schedule. I may need an extra week this first one, but otherwise I'm good.**

 **Also when I last met with my beta IRL she literally looked at my draft and went 'WHOA, what happened?' Face palm, anyone? She hasn't even been reading on FF either so I asked her permission to give her penname on here so you can go bug her if you want. It's Akeea and I haven't seen her since early December – tell her to come find me on campus. Nice things only please!**

 **Anyway thank you so much everyone for your reviews on the last chapter and my notice. All of your kind words really made my day and is got me through my roughest set of tests ever.**

 **angel897, Christina Fey, Crimson Songstress, Kuroi-Akuma-no-Okami, deafreader, Guest 1, aquakim, crazehfreakbehungreh000, Guest 2, RogueReaper, hermonine, Lexa Silver, Raija22, and Alimol17** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 **QueefCream** – _Thorin I think needs time to process before he vents because I actually kind of like the way he reacted, being stricken with surprise at first and then needing to stew on it. See if in the next chapter I bring out the Thorin you were looking for. I think I had enough time now. XD_

 **Outofthisworldgal** _– What's a little blackmail between friends? And thank you for the friendly words during a very hectic time in my life._

 **0x0UnderDog0x0** _– 0_0 Do you know my thoughts? Also thank you for the words of encouragement, I hope things go better for you as well._

 **Lesliezin** – _XD I'm sure they will once he gets over being mad about the whole thing. Definitely a brooder our beloved dwarf King…_

 **Guest –** _I'm glad you liked Thorin's scene in all honest I wasn't entirely sure about it considering all the frustrations so I think I might draw his more conflicted thoughts out again in the next chapter._

 **PrincessSerenity96 –** _I promise no giving up on this one I just had some things get in my way, but not anymore._

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She just recently completed it and while bittersweet, the ending made it complete.**

 **One of my reviewers from the last chapter is Lesliezin. I absolutely love her Thorin/OC story: A Shadowed Companion. It's a female ranger who follows the company at Gandalf's request. All should read, it's fantastic and I can't wait for the next chapter.**

* * *

I find myself facing perhaps the hardest decision in my life since I returned from the Grey Mountains. My eyes flicker between the pair of disgruntled elves and the grey wizard who is speaking in hushed tones with his elf friend, Lindir. They are far enough away and so quietly that I cannot even begin to guess what it is they discuss, but from the appearance of the dwarves faces, who are closer, they are likely not speaking Westron. Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin have been brought to this meeting, providing an equal distribution between brains and brawns. I think the only reason I'm here is to apologize, and as Gandalf had so kindly mentioned, to keep me out of trouble.

I am leaning against a pillar outside Lord Elrond's personal study trying to decide which one is more annoying: the elves with their pouting lips and cold glares or the wizard with his all-knowing countenance. The elves, at least, were kind enough to show their dislike for my person openly, but the wizard would shoot me dirt looks when he thought I was looking elsewhere.

We are waiting for Lord Elrond to end a meeting with someone…no one had really given a name, but I could sense them through the door. There isn't enough room in the study to contain the magic Galadriel is producing and it has unintentionally spilled over into hallway. However, she is holding back. It seems that only those of us who have met the Pale Lady previously could sense her. Lindir and Gandalf had a moment of tense silence when we had first stopped here. They had glanced at the door and then turned their attention to their conversation. The dwarves and the other two elves remain blissfully ignorant of the powerful being tucked into Elrond's study.

After my encounter with the magic of Mirkwood I had been terrified and still angry with myself for what had happened. For a long while it was all I could think about. However, Tauriel's father had taken me to Lothlorien to help arm myself against the dark magic of Middle Earth. As such I had met the Lady Galadriel and it was with her help my mask had been forged. It protects me from all forms of magic and because of her generosity I never have to fear losing myself like I did in the forest. I am in her debt for the rest of my life…

That seems to happen quite a lot. Morinehtar, Tauriel, Galadriel, Ethon…It seems that I am equally skilled in accumulating a body count as well as debts. From the corner of my eye I see movement, only to find that my hand has unconsciously moved up to my mask. As if sensing my thoughts I could feel the Lothlorien elf flutter around the outskirts of my consciousness, but dare not enter for fear of forsaking the trust I have given her. It took five months in the elvish city before I even dare ask my request not only for fear of judgment, but also because I had feared revealing to her my weakness. I will never forget the first time I met her. I had never been more terrified or more hopeful.

The…encounter with Thorin had been a slight reprieve for the fears of my mind. The elvish magic in the air has now grown with the Lady's presence, and despite that I know she will bring me no harm I cannot help the unease I feel. Why would she be here? Why now?

I sense eyes on my person and I first look up at the elf across from me. It's the one that I had grabbed by the throat and lifted. He has straight blond hair and dark brown eyes, but with the sharp features and otherworldly aura, he easily melds into my memory as just another of his kind; his friend, whom I punched, is behind him, watching Gandalf and Lindir, intently. When we met eyes he glares harder, as if it will intimidate me. Now as I watch him, he shifts anxiously under my gaze. A smug grin works its way onto my face, but remains hidden by my mask. However, even after my small victory I still feel eyes on me. I glance at Gandalf, but his stern gaze is directed at Lindir and both are still deep in conversation. The only other place I have to look is the dwarves and sure enough I find my answer.

Thorin is stuck between the sons of Fundin with his arms crossed over his chest. Dwalin and Balin had taken to Gandalf's tactic and switched over to speaking in Khuzdul, but they miss Thorin's silent glare in my direction altogether. He seems to be studying me, but the scrutiny hardly affects me. If anything it is actually…comforting. After the amount of time I have spent under his watchful eyes it has almost become a state of normalcy for me, but whether or not Thorin could tell if it brought me ease I couldn't discern. It has been a good while since anyone had tried to keep an eye on me. I think Tauriel's father, Hadrien, had been the last…What I wouldn't give to have a few more minutes to talk with him. When we left the Greenwood we spoke of all things under the sun and he always gave me the best advice…talked about the things I would never have the chance to talk with my parents…

The blue wizard had also watched over me, but his gaze always made me feel as though I were…inadequate. Like everything I did would never be enough. As if the years I spent training and the blood, sweat, and tears I had put into my training is never what he wanted from me. Even now I'm not sure why I think that, but it's just how I feel. In the ranger camps we certainly looked out for each other out of a sense of brotherhood, even our mentors did their best to make sure they did not look down on us, but to teach us. Ethon and I always had each other. Every mission and every training exercise we did together. I think he is the first person I ever opened up to after I left Thoth. He thought of me like family – a better one than he was given. I never understood that way of thinking because I'm pretty sure I make a horrible sister, but only Aceia could confirm that.

I lock eyes with Thorin and I wonder what he thinks of me. I don't think I have disappointed him, but there is certainly no show of brotherhood there either. My mouth cannot prevent itself from breaking into a smile and a small flush filling my cheeks. I don't think Thorin could ever be a "brother" after what happened. Of course when I consider our relationship we could never have the familial feel I have with Ethon, or even his nephews. In Thorin's eyes…I am something else all together.

"Poled teilia andhir?" asks the elf I caught staring. I break eye contact with Thorin to stare coldly at him. I have a feeling I know where this is going, but I prefer to remain ignorant in light of the fact that we are supposed to apologize to one another shortly. I can't believe that after the extended silence between us, his balls decide to make an appearance just now.

"Man?" I return calmly with a raised eyebrow; one of his own eyebrows quirks slightly at my response. I can feel my annoyance developing into severe distaste for the willowy male.

"Cardh teilia raegbe di sin naugrim?" he asks smugly. Apparently he had interpreted my question as a confession and stated it more to irritate me than to restate the question. He is trying to get a rise out of me, definitely jesting about my behavior from the previous night, but he may be even trying to intimidate me; as though he would tattle to my mother. But she's dead and now he is just making me angry. The dwarves shift closer, unconsciously, as the small noise in the back of my throat escapes my pursed lips.

"Uan care i theilin," I growl back. I don't play games with the lives of people. I don't find joy in manipulating others or having power over them. The words 'Because I can' come to mind, though not in Westron. The black garbled language of the orcs seeps into the back of my mind, but I quickly crush it. I am not like that. I am not playing with the dwarves and this arrogant ass needs to learn his place. At first I think my short and terse comment is enough to stop him, but I am wrong.

"Caro heniawen man cuildh?" he responds. Now I slowly release the snarl from the back of my throat. While my body tenses, I do not move from my spot. Lindir and Gandalf are now watching our conversation cautiously and for good reason. This is what Gandalf wanted to prevent, but there seems to be a good chance that I may actually end up getting in worse trouble by killing the damn elf and being done with it.

How does one apologize to an elf lord for killing one of their subjects for being absolutely annoying? I would much rather apologize for murder to the elf lord than this whelp at this point. The elf behind him whispers something into his ear, but his friend brushes him off. In the mean time Dwalin has seen my tension and now stands between the elf and I with a hand on one of his axe handles.

"Oakenshield polhon dae noen," I claim. With Thorin's name now thrown into the mangle of elvish words Dwalin's grip tightens on the axe. They know that we speak of him and I pretty sure anything else that comes out of his mouth will sound like an insult at this point. Even Balin, the calm and more collected of us, is starting to look a little agitated.

"Hanhon anpenestel sennui innauth mein," he says nonchalantly. In an instant I push myself off the pillar I had been leaning on and make a half step towards the pale elf. He instinctively shrinks back towards his darker-haired friend. Gandalf blocks the dwarves' view of the elf and to prevent Dwalin from drawing his axe fully while Lindir admonishes the other two. I don't break eye contact with the elf's form, but he cannot seem to meet my gaze. I can't stop the heavy sensation in my stomach that stems from the tight coil my body has taken on in preparation for a fight.

"That is enough, Kalar," says the wizard. "We are here to attain some semblance of peace. You have no reason to start stirring up trouble." I still don't look at the wizard. I watch the elf like a predator as I wait for either Lindir or Gandalf to step aside.

"I have done nothing. You heard him," I say with my teeth grinding. "Do you expect me to sit idle as he makes his jabs?" There is a small huff of agreement from one of the dwarves beside me, but I am not quite sure which one.

"I expect you to act like an adult and not like some discourteous youth," says the wizard. "Nilmal is only two hundred years old and has never set foot outside the valley. You should know better than to behave so brashly."

I now look away from my prey to look the wizard in the eye, but I cannot bring any words to my lips at first. Did I really seem old enough to Gandalf to be above his behavior? I suppose I must have for the rangers to have trained me; they have no place for children amongst their ranks. Even then, the thought that Gandalf, of all people, has an expectation of me is rather flattering. It's not every day that a wizard holds you to a standard.

"While I am honored you think so highly of me Gandalf," I say more calmly, though sarcastically. "And I will do my best to hold a more even temperament; I must also remind you that I am quite young myself. If you wish to consider this nothing more than childish behavior then go ahead, but I know I am not the one purposefully aggravating anyone."

I allow my body to unfurl from my tense position and reclaim my spot along the side of the post. My dwarrow friends remain tense, but stay close to me as I return to my position. I keep my gaze level with the wizard's light blue eyes as my anger dissipates. His eyes soften a little and I can't help feeling he may have actually forgotten just how old I am. He drops the conversation with a quick nod and turns towards the entrance to the hallway. I see movement in my peripheral and look in the same direction. The small hobbit has just shuffled in, having some trouble shutting the large elven doors.

"Ah, Bilbo," says the wizard fondly, "Glad you decided to join us. How did you enjoy the Hall of Fire?" The halfling looks up at the wizard with a lingering wonder in his eyes. I can feel a small smile tugging at my lips at his obvious enjoyment. Most hobbits, from what I have heard, are very reserved and hardly curious, but Bilbo seems to be the exception to the rule. The courage it must have taken to sign the contract is nothing to ignore, neither is the levelheadedness he maintained during the encounter with the trolls. He even managed to keep up as we ran through the rolling hills outside the valley to escape the orc pack. This hobbit is certainly more than meets the eye.

"It was stunning, Gandalf. The elves have a rendition of Beren and Luthien that is simply amazing," he says enthusiastically. I feel my eyes roll in my head; of course it had to be a love story…

"Bah," grumbles Dwalin grumpily, "Couldn't have been that good."

"The halfling, if you recall, has never been further than Frog Morton until this venture. I'm sure the elves are quite impressive in the eyes of one so green," I say. I roll my shoulders slightly as I try to regain a more comfortable position against the stone at my back. I also thoroughly enjoy the angry looks coming from the two elves. "Cut him some slack, Dwalin." At my words Dwalin relaxes a little more than he had been previously, but still mutters something under his breath that I cannot hear. Gandalf looks like he wants to comment, likely on my leniency, but an unexpected question emerges.

"Do our stories not entertain, good ranger?" asks Lindir. He seems genuine in his question as though he may accommodate me better, but I won't be satisfied until the magic of the valley is well and truly behind my back.

"Love stories have never really been a favorite of mine is all," I comment carelessly. "I much prefer the tales of Elaramir, the only elf to ever cross the Wastelands of the Rhun; or perhaps the tale of Gigan, who made his home at the top of the mountain so that he might mine the stars."

"Children's tales," sneers Nilmal across the way. Lindir gives him a pointed look before looking back at me. His eyes are alight with curiosity and if I had been looking at others I would have noticed they shared the look.

"Gigan originally went to the top of the mountain to bring back a star to prove to Durin the Fourth that he was worthy of his daughter's hand. Elaramir only went to the east because it had been his love's dying wish; and after returning to spin his tale, he took to the Gray Havens to follow her," counters Lindir.

"Aye," I concede. "The best stories are spun from good motivations. However, I detest lamenting one's love, which is probably why neither story has both lovers in one place together longer than a few moments."

"Do you not believe in love?" asks Bilbo from the sidelines. I look at him now and he holds my gaze. It is very unlike when we first met, when he couldn't hold my gaze. He is becoming surer of himself…

"I know it exists, but I can't stand hearing about it. Adults romanticize it far too much and children hold their tales like scripture. They grow up looking for something similar never knowing that it takes work to achieve. Nothing in life is ever that clear or painless. Since when is love ever perfect…" I end rather bitterly, even to my own ears.

My words seem to sober most of our party and put them in rather reflective moods. I actually feel a little shame for having killed the moment, especially when the hobbit's face softens as he looks at me. I can see the pity there, but it is more like a caring glance. A tender look that pierces my heart; how can someone I barely know concern themselves so much? I should remember to keep my mouth shut. Before anything else can be said an attendant opens the door to Elrond's study.

"Lord Elrond is ready to receive you."

I break my eye contact with Bilbo to watch the elf return to the study and in chance of spotting Lady Galadriel. However, Gandalf swiftly strides forward and blocks any view I may have of the room. He is likely trying to set the proper mood and take control of the situation before it has a chance to go awry. I don't mind as I begin to realize Galadriel's presence has left the vicinity. The elves go in next both of them watching me cautiously even though I have no intention of moving on them now. Dwalin follows behind them, placing himself between the elves and his king as well as providing a buffer from the elves. Thorin and Balin follow him leaving me to cover the rear. Thorin throws me a quick and dark glance, indicating his displeasure at my placement, but I ignore him; because beyond that it is an immense compliment from Dwalin that he trusts me to watch their backs. Bilbo just falls in beside me, trying to keep up with my long strides.

Upon passing through the large doors I discover that the study also doubles as a solar. Part of the roof is glass allowing the noon sun to filter in. There is a balcony out another doorway, which is presently open and allowing in a warm breeze. The rest of the room is made of beautifully carved stone walls forming bookshelves, columns, and murals. There is a second level leading to a more private balcony that allows an overlook of the rest of the valley. The woodwork makes up the railing and some posts. The walls are painted a comforting light green color, which combined with the incoming sunlight, produces a natural feel to the room.

The book shelves house books of all languages with unlit torches and candelabras standing at attention on either side of a shelf and along the columns. The upper floor has a couple tapestries, but I cannot make out of what, for they are too far away. To one side is a wooden desk littered with scrolls and smaller candles for nighttime use. There is an array of drinks lined against another surface. One is tea, another appears to be wine, and then water in a simple chalice. If the cold tea is anything to go by they had been there a while. The thought of the elf lord being so absorbed in his studies that he forgets to drink his tea makes him seem…more human. Elves never forget anything, a curse of living for so long. It is something so mundane and unelvish, but I like him better for it.

A waft of incense burns through my nose and my eyes follow the breeze. Lord Elrond sits in a chair away from his desk with incense burning beside him. I pin the scent down as Cedar as we approach the elf lord. Gandalf watches him with a guarded expression on his features and the elves, Lindir included, take their place beside him to wait patiently for him to acknowledge them. I stand behind the dwarves who look uncomfortable standing in the middle of the study waiting for the Elrond to address them. Despite our entrance the half elven does not look at us, at first I think he is ignoring us, but upon a second glance there is a hooded look in his eyes. He winces as though someone had been very loud all of a sudden, but he cannot hear us and he does not see us.

 _Foresight…_

The Lady Galadriel's voice flitters along the edges of my mind; not invasive, but close. My body tenses naturally as it always does when something encroaches on my mind; the lady means me no ill will, but Mirkwood left me more scarred than I would care to admit. Now knowing what is occurring I can recognize the distant look in his eyes as he searches for whatever he seeks. Regardless of my unease, the lady's warning doesn't lose any of its meaningfulness. If the elvish lord truly bears the gift of foresight then it is likely that he already knows what our purpose east truly is. Perhaps he had foreseen our arrival to his valley…

My eyes glance up at the wizard and I feel a little guilty now for having blamed Gandalf initially for telling the elves of our arrival. There is a chance he had not told the elves, but they had seen it. That would explain how Elrond's company knew where to go to fight the orc pack that had been following us, rather than the camp we had set up before running into the trolls. Even if Gandalf had magically made it to Rivendell, he couldn't have known about the orc pack. He didn't even know Radagast had left the Greenwood until he appeared suddenly.

After a few moments of silence Gandalf spoke up, "My Lord Elrond?"

His words return the elf to the present, but it takes him a moment to shake off whatever visions he has seen. His eyes glance throughout the room, making note of his audience, but more often than not his eyes stray to Thorin. I am beginning to realize that Elrond's foresight may be dangerous. If he looks at what may lie ahead for us he may not allow us to leave his realm or worse; he may warn Thranduil of our intent.

"Forgive me," he says. "I didn't mean to be so distant."

"Not at all, Lord Elrond," says Gandalf in a friendly manner.

"Apology accepted," answers Thorin in a gruff manner. I have to stifle the laughter in my throat as Gandalf sends Thorin a look that seems as sharp as a sword. It seems that while Thorin may be civil to the Lord of Rivendell, his own impatience would be the one ruling on the words that escaped him. Lord Elrond didn't even seem to notice Thorin's rude behavior.

"Now," the half-elven states, "I believe an exchange of apologies is in order. Allow me to be the first?" Thorin gives him permission with a nod of his head and so Elrond continues, "I ask that you forgive my lapse of judgment in not informing you about the ponies and the supplies we found. We sought to investigate further before mentioning it just in case the orcs had chased another party in need of our help. I should have asked you first Lord Oakenshield if they were yours and for that I do apologize, but I hope you can understand why I made no assumptions."

I am impressed. Lord Elrond's humble nature and sincere apologies are not lost on me. He is…not what I expected. His magical aura, while strong, doesn't drown my senses and his emotions read plainly upon his face. He is reserved, but not nearly as unreadable as Galadriel. On a personal level, I accept the apology for it seems like a valid reason and the regret is sincere; the words themselves are polite and properly addressed. However, it had to meet Thorin's approval.

The said dwarf nods his head and plainly states, "I do understand and the apology is humbly accepted." For a moment I thought he would choke on those last couple of words. I struggle with another bout of laughter clawing at my throat. The stubbornness of dwarves amuses me so…

Feeling the need to quickly end the awkward and painful air in the study, I turn to the elves next to Lindir. They look at me expectantly, so I answer them with a small smile hidden beneath the mask, from the struggle of not laughing at Thorin earlier.

"I also apologize. My behavior was brash, violent, and for the most part unnecessary." A few eyebrows, mostly elves, rose at that statement. "I thought to be defending comrades from ill intent, but now I can now see that it was…childish of me."

My reference to our earlier conversation causes Gandalf to send a small smile my way. However, the pair of elves are struggling to accept my apology as Thorin had with accepting Lord Elrond's. For a moment, I don't think they are going to accept, but with a couple hard looks from Lindir and Elrond they concede.

"We accept your apology," says the one I had punched. It is in a pinched tone, but acceptance nonetheless. He looks over at his companion for confirmation and when he doesn't respond he nudges him. This forces a hiss of, "Yes," from the elf's lips.

"Good," says Gandalf with a smile. "Then the matter is settled."

"Actually," I says garnering the attention of the whole room and bowing my head, "I would like to extend my apology to Lord Elrond. I apologize for my actions because they infringe on the generosity you have given us. The blades you have gifted us with are rightfully the heirlooms of your people, but you give them to us freely out of goodwill. On top of that you have provided my friends with shelter and food. Neither sentiment is lost to us, so I thank you and apologize for any insult I may have brought you."

I'm sure the dwarves aren't very appreciative of my display, but I am compelled to do it. For all the elves I have met I could count the number of ones I could trust in one hand; Lord Elrond, for all his magical wiles, could be another. A heartbeat of silence passes before dark haired elf nods his head in my direction. "I accept. Though that part of the apology is more customary to be given by Lord Oakenshield; I had honestly not expected it at all."

A snort makes its way out of Dwalin, but before anyone can erupt, I jump in, "I firmly believe that an individual is responsible for their own actions. Kings and Lords are normally held accountable for the deeds of their subjects, but I hope you will not hold it against Thorin. I acted impulsively on my own. None should have to suffer for my choices."

Another moment passes and Elrond speaks again, "That is a noble gesture and an admirable outlook, but keep in mind that not everyone will see it that way. Especially when others do suffer for your choices…"

My head, which had remained bowed until this point, lifts so that I can make eye contact with the elven lord. His dark brown eyes are gentle, but firm – I had seen that look a few times before when people are trying to see if I understood something. However, his message is lost on me and I begin to feel a little annoyed. I know he is right, with the powers I am capable of wielding my choices could easily cause irreparable damage; this means he must be aware of my powers. It is just aggravating to know that he has seen my future and it terrifies me, not knowing what it might be.

"I will keep it in mind," I grit out. Despite the finality in my voice, our eye contact doesn't break. We continue to look at one another. I'm glaring on my part, trying to show my resistance in the matter, while the half elven benevolently searches my eyes for understanding. The moment ends when Thorin cuts in.

"Is there anything more you wish to discuss or would you rather waste the day away criticizing my ranger?" he asks angrily.

After that comment, I feel my eyebrow rise. Dwarves are possessive by nature, though usually in defense of what is theirs. When did I become something worth defending to Thorin? I had thought that the revelation of my true self would have made him angry, which I'm not surprised if he is silently resenting me; but maybe he thought me his responsibility now that he knows the full truth. At that thought, a snort threats to unleash itself, but Thorin's wrath is not worth the trouble so I hold it in. If he thought I would become a burden after everything I had already done for him, the raven haired dwarf is sorely mistaken.

"There is another matter I had hoped to address," says Lord Elrond as he stands to move about the room. "Nilmal. Delelas. You are free to leave."

The two elves bow to their lord before slipping out of the room. As this occurs I find myself eyeing Thorin curiously. I still wonder where the earlier statement had come from, but I find myself facing a mask of indifference and annoyance. I glance at Balin and Dwalin, but they don't even look surprised by Thorin's words, as if they are a natural occurrence. Instead, the dwarves watch the elf lord with caution.

"Gandalf told me you came seeking advice," says the elven lord, "What would you ask of me?"

Gandalf tries to be the first to respond, but Thorin beats him to it, "We already have our answers and your hospitality is more than enough. We actually plan to leave on the morrow and would be willing pay you for supplies before we take our leave."

"Setting out so soon?" asks Lord Elrond. "Might I inquire as to what requires such haste?" His inquiry bitingly reminds me of Tauriel's questions I faced the night before.

"You may not," addresses Balin. "These are matters of the sons of Durin…" he glances at me and Bilbo, "And our associates." This would also include the Ur family, but I doubt the elves would really know the difference.

"Very well then," says Lord Elrond. He says not looking at us, but leaning on a hand on his desk. His eyes rove over a map, of which I can only see the corner. From what I can tell there appears to be mountains. When his hand leaves to turn to us I can also see the forests of the east. My fists clench as I realize that the elven lord has been looking into maps of the east. Elrond reconnects his eye contact with Thorin, "However, I would like the answer I was promised earlier. What reason have you for travelling along the Great East Road?"

"The dwarves only wish to visit their kin in the east," Gandalf tosses out. It's the same excuse I had given Tauriel the day before and I can't help wondering if there is a chance he may have over heard me. It's not likely, but I can't help the grim satisfaction that stems from the fact that the wizard isn't above producing half-truths of his own; even to his wonderful elf friend. "Is that truly so strange?"

"Nay," answers the elf. "Not at all strange…except for the fact that an emissary from the Iron Hills just travelled the mountain pass to return home within this year. Apparently, they were returning from a meeting in Ered Luin. Were you unaware of your kin's presence in the West?" asks Lord Elrond pointedly.

I begin shifting my weight between my feet nervously. Gloin had only mentioned the meeting of their kin – mostly the obvious outcome – in passing. I had no idea that it had been so recent. For being longer-lived creatures dwarves are really showing their most defining trait – impatience. However, I find it odd that in my travels I heard nothing about the traversing of Ironfoot in the West. They must have been well hidden, if the shock on the faces of the dwarves are anything to go by. Leave it to the elves to know everything about your business.

"Of course," answers Gandalf, taking the situation in stride. "Thorin was in attendance of the meeting. As you know Lord Dain has offered his halls as a home to all who have escaped the dragon's fire. And these few have kin amongst those and wish to visit them."

I eye the wizard with a cold glare. I can't tell if that is a half-truth or a lie. Perhaps some did have family in the Iron Hills, but it seems unlikely. Dain may be Thorin's cousin, but what about the others. The simple idea of dwarves splitting up, especially kin, seems unnatural. I think of the bonds the dwarves share and I cannot picture them willingly being separated.

If the relationship between Fili and Kili are anything to go by, separating them would be like losing a limb. Oin, despite that he can be annoyed with his younger brother, speaks very highly of Gloin's little boy at home, Gimli. One day I had been riding next to him when he had commented to Dori that his favorite pastime was purposefully mishearing the little lad just so that he would stay with his old uncle and repeat it to him several times. It was just a rouse so he could spend time with him…and to watch Gimli's face go red. Bofur and Bombur are also close with their cousin. Bifur spoke little on our journey so far, but he always has a small smile to share with his cousins. Whatever troubles that had befallen Bifur in his life; he clearly shared with the other two Firebeards. I cannot…I cannot picture any of them willing being separated by distance. Dori has mild panic attacks when Ori is gone for too long and while Dwalin will never admit it, he watches his older brother constantly for any signs of fatigue. I'm not sure if it had ever been that way for me and my family…

My parents of course were the most important people growing up, along with my cousin and her family. My heart actually aches a little as I think of my cousin, Aceia. She is couple years older than me and greatly resembles my mother. Growing up together had been a little difficult because she was born a mute. Most other children didn't know Nezkish in the village, but I strived to speak with her because I loved seeing her smile when we "spoke". She is actually the only reason I learned Nezkish in the first place.

My mother never intended to have children because of the more delicate state it would place her in. She didn't want to have to rely on anyone to take care of her; if orcs were to attack she wanted to only worry about herself and her husband. She also thought that since babies couldn't defend themselves, they make a quick snack for orcs; so why even bother. The only reason I'm here is because my father had begged…

With that in mind it was clear to my father that I would never receive any siblings, so my cousin became the sister I could never have. She is a patient and gentle girl, very much the opposite of me growing up. Her disability made it difficult to make many friends so she actually spent more time in the library and the blood orange groves, depending on the season. I would join her and we would read about dwarves, rangers, the Valar; anything we could get our hands on really. And in turn she would show up at my weapons training from time to time.

I last time I saw her, she was blossoming into a beautiful woman in the city of Thoth. She had been starting to receive suitors, but had yet to court anyone. Her father watches her with a very careful eye seeing as she seems to wear her heart on her sleeve. It would hurt her later if she wasn't careful. Extended life usually goes hand in hand with the golden eyes, but there are very few humans with our kind of longevity. Other races on the other hand…

"I do not believe you." Lord Elrond's words cut through my reverie. "Never before have I seen a journey with need for such speed, security, or secrecy. I am well aware that your goal is to enter the Lonely Mountain."

Troll shit! Could we not receive any leniency? Trolls, orcs, and wargs are unexpected hurtles we could manage, but now the elf lord is going to hinder us further; and he has a valley of sprites at his command. Are Eru and Aule conspiring against us? Did they not want us to make it to the thrice damned mountain?

"Even if that were the case it's none of yer damn business," answers Dwalin with a puffed up chest.

"Anything that may incur the dragon's wrath on the whole of Middle Earth is certainly my business," replies Elrond with a hard, flat tone.

"Your kind didn't see it that way almost two centuries ago," growls Thorin.

Lord Elrond's tight facial expression loosens slightly. I know he is not the one responsible for the plights of Thorin's people, but he is kind enough to look guilty.

"Thranduil's treatment of you people was deplorable and the grief they have experienced should not be taken lightly," says he half-elven. "But you cannot be allowed to awaken Smaug for I fear the destruction that will follow. I am sorry."

"You dare keep us here as prisoners?" demands Thorin angrily.

"No, but this Valley and the High Pass are closed to you," says Lord Elrond. "I will happily arrange an escort to return you to the Blue Mountains if you wish."

This is a problem. We no longer have access through the High Pass if Rivendell closes the entrance off to us. Despite that the mountains are ruled by the elements and goblins that lingered after the Dwarf-Orc war, Lord Elrond now holds the key for us to enter them. There are other ways to get there, but further north are the Ettenmoors, Gundabad, and the ruins of the kingdom of Angmar. The ancient evil and dark creatures that roamed the northern lands are ones that I would rather not face during my lifetime if at all possible. I'm sure the others would agree that this option is too dangerous – it wouldn't do to charge into danger unnecessarily.

As for the south, the first pass we could reach is Moria, but I know we could not go there. Not only was there a small nest of orc and goblins still crawling through the halls, but the pain it would bring the dwarves might be overwhelming. Even further south was Dunland and we might be able to pass through Isengard, if the White Wizard allowed. However, it is far too close to Mordor for comfort and I would really rather go the rest of my lifetime not meeting another wizard. Another hint that this might be a bad idea is the fact that Gandalf hasn't offered this as a possible solution. Perhaps he and Saruman are not on the best of terms.

"We are a free people of this world and you do not decide where we can and cannot go," growls Balin. It is quite strange to hear the gentle and more subdued member of our company growling at the elf lord. "You cannot tell us that we may not continue. This is our right and it is our home."

The word home reminds me of my conversation from yesterday…and I suddenly have an idea. Elrond's face is still drawn, but sympathetic; a look that has Dwalin getting ready to step in and combust. Rather than set the whole arrangement up in flames I grip his shoulder to prevent him from speaking and I look at Thorin. He is watching me with a guarded expression. I try to express what I mean through my eyes, I even add a nod for good measure. He holds my gaze for a moment before he nods in consent, but doesn't maintain eye contact.

"No," I answer the elf Lord, "We do not need an escort. We have prepared for such an eventuality. If you will not let us through the High Pass then we will leave and find another way." I can feel the stares the dwarves place on me. "We will leave as soon as we are able. Just because you will not allow us through doesn't mean we will stop searching for another way." The dwarves balk at my solution, giving into the elf lord's ultimatum; they are blissfully unaware that I have no intent of letting him push us around. The harsh gaze I receive from Thorin is enough to know that he may very well kill me if I didn't explain myself soon.

The seer is silent a moment, but nods his head gravely, "As you wish." He turns away from the rest of us, looking outside as he adds, "I am sure you and your companions have plans that need to be made. I will not hold you any longer."

It is as polite of a dismissal as we could hope for. As we move towards the door I see my companions shooting me confused looks, Bilbo included. He even seems a little hurt, like the progress we had made makes him sad to know we would have to backtrack. Gandalf on the other had looks quite pleased; with what? He supposedly is the one who proposed this venture to Thorin, but now he is happy with the impeding of our progress? I would never understand wizards. For now I let the dour expressions slide off my back; they would be thanking me shortly.

"A moment, Gandalf," calls Elrond before we can make it through the door. I look back over my shoulder at the wizard who had been following us. He casts a glance at me and for a moment I can see Morinehtar, with his clever mind reflecting in his eyes. He shoots me a wink; did he know what I plan to do? Bilbo didn't miss the look while the others walk out the door he had stayed behind to look at his wizard friend. When did this shift start to happen? When did the wizard start to trust me with something as important as the safety of the company or our mission? The first day he told me that his only concern was for this company and that he wouldn't allow me to threaten that; did he see something about me that changed his mind or is he just that desperate?

The wizard then turns and returns to his elvish friend. Bilbo and I continue out the door to find the dwarves lingering in the hallway, exchanging loud banter in Khuzdul. It would seem that I have left them to stew over my words for too long. I come up behind Thorin and place a hand on his shoulder. For a moment they all tense and then turn their angry eyes on me. However, before Dwalin can speak, for he appears ready to erupt at any moment, I place a finger over where my lips would be. I continue walking, motioning them to follow me. A moment later I hear their footsteps following me. I find a small alcove that will work well enough for us – it is midday and likely that most of the elves are eating their luncheon, and even if they aren't the weather is beautiful; they are probably frolicking among the trees somewhere. When the others enter they seem to notice the privacy I have sought, but dwarves are dwarves.

"What in the Maker's Halls was that?!" demands Dwalin loudly.

"Lad, you can't be serious?" asks Balin, unsure.

Once I am sure we are alone, I drop to one knee so that I wouldn't have to look down, but also so that I didn't have to speak so loudly.

"I'm not that daft," I start to loosen the mood, "I would never turn us back after we have come so far, but elves are very crafty and too aware for their own good." The comment is directed at the fact that Elrond knew about Ironfoot crossing the Misty Mountains, regardless of its secrecy. "We need them to let their guard down as much as possible." With that comment the anger drains from them and is instead replaced with a firmer, but brighter countenance.

"What did ya have in mind?" rumble Dwalin. His voice is now much quieter as we discuss our plans.

"Elrond knows we aren't happy with his decision, but if I told him we had given up entirely he would have been suspicious. By saying that we plan to leave as soon as possible, which Thorin kindly pointed out would be the morrow, they will suspect nothing as we gather our supplies," I explain.

"When do we leave?" asks Balin excitedly.

"At moon high," I answer. "I need a chance to read the map, but there may also be another riddle and I might need a little time."

"Tonight?" restates Bilbo, confused.

"Yes," I answer. "Elves have great eyesight, but in the dark it is not as good the dwarves. We will have the advantage. Sadly, Master Baggins you and I will have to make due."

"Don't you worry about that, lad," croons Balin. "We won't let anything befall either of ya."

"How are we going to get the supplies? We are really low and surely the elves will not give us what we need for travelling the mountains, but to return the way we came. How do we get those?" asks the hobbit.

"You and Nori are going to be in charge of that," I reply. "Recruit Fili and Kili if you have to – they can always say they are looking for more wine." This releases a small chuckle from each of the sons of Fundin. Bilbo looks a little unsure, but nods. "Don't worry, little master. This is much better burglary practice than trying to get ponies away from trolls."

The small smile I have for him is lost behind the mask, but he seems to understand the comfort I'm trying to provide and returns it regardless. I turn to Balin, "Make sure the lads are well rested – we need to make great speed to avoid the elves pursuit into the pass. Once the map is read we will make a break for it."

"And how," starts Thorin, "Is it we are escaping?"

It is the first time he has directly spoken to me since the moment in the washroom. I can hear the angry prodding and doubt in his question, but I ignore it. He is definitely resentful, and bitter it would seem. I don't miss the pointed looks coming from the sons of Fundin as they look between us.

"You have your tasks and our way will be set once I complete mine," I answer.

"Which is?" asks Thorin with a sneer.

"I am going to secure us an escape route," I reply simply.

* * *

 **I did my best with the translations once more, but if you think I did it wrong let me know. Also please judge me harshly for my impression of Lord Elrond, elves are hard for me to write if you can't tell, and I'm always happy with a little bit of criticism.**

 **Translations:**

Poled teilia andhir? = Is it fun for you?

Man = What?

Cardh teilia raegbe di sin naugrim? = Do you enjoy playing with these dwarves?

Uan care i theilin = I don't play games.

Caro heniawen man cuildh? = Do they know what you are?

Oakenshield polhon dae noen = Oakenshield is well aware.

Hanhon anpenestel sennui innauth mein = Then he lacks more honor than I originally thought.

 **Next time: Tahna's plan, Thorin tells, and Bilbo has had enough of this nonsense…**


	17. A Promise Made

**Hey everyone. Turns out I did need that extra week – had double exams this past one. However, you all get this one a day early. Yay! Now I know I promised Thorin spilling his guts in this chapter, but it really became its own thing. So instead we have helpful and sassy ass Tauriel. Since Tauriel didn't seem like a normal elf (flirting with dwarves and all that) I thought I would give her character a little booster shot with some humor. We are gonna need it when we hit the Misty Mountains…let me tell you. And since I have some overflow, that means that I will have the next part up in two weeks or sooner! ;)**

 **Again thank you so much everyone for your reviews on and the well wishes on my notice. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **angel897, Guest 1, Winter's Thunder** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 **QueefCream** – _Much like her relationship with Thorin I want it to grow with time. Most of the antagonism between the two stems from the unknown. I personally don't like that Gandalf knows EVERYONE so meeting unknown elements along with Tahna's general apprehension just made for a couple stormy months. Now as they understand each other thing will get better._

 **inperfection** _– I'm glad you liked the reveal. I also hope you like how I did the company's take on the matter as well. As to Lindir, the dinner disaster is by far my favorite expression of his. :)_

 **0x0UnderDog0x0** _– Thanks for the suggestion. I went back and filled in those translations I totally forgot to go back in and fill those so thank you for the heads up. :)_

 **ro781727** – _I know it's been a while since we PM'ed and I do plan to go back and fix the Iglishmek and Khazdul SNAFU. sadly I haven't had time to check out the sites you sent me, but I will get to it soon because I want to fix these details before ploughing to far ahead. Thank you for keeping my Tolkien Universe straight! :)_

 **LucarioKid –** _I promise to respond to your PM, but since you very sweet in letting me know you liked my story I thought I would say here first thank you and I hope you like this part._

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She just recently completed it and while bittersweet, the ending made it complete.**

 **One of my reviewers is Lesliezin. I absolutely love her Thorin/OC story: A Shadowed Companion. It's a female ranger who follows the company at Gandalf's request. All should read, it's fantastic and I can't wait for the next chapter.**

 **Also while I don't think she has read my story I want to give a shout out to JMac322. She has just started the second part to her Thorin/OC story and I absolutely love it. Check out both parts. The first one is Home is Behind and the second part is The World Ahead. We correspond regularly so I'm sure she would love more conversation than just me! Go check her stuff out!**

* * *

Elves watch me as I stride past them with purpose. They whisper to one another and observe me cautiously as they make it a point to stay out of my way. I ignore them until I require directions, suddenly turning to whoever happens to be near. It usually surprises whoever I ask; however, I ran into the elf maid from dinner the night before and it seems that regardless of my treatment of her kin, she is still enamored with the ranger persona. That is, of course, if her blush is anything to go by.

The southern groves are relatively easy to locate once I discover they are almost entirely cherry trees. I have only ever tasted the sweet fruit once or twice, and while you cannot smell them from the perches amongst the trees, just seeing their bright red skin is enough to get my mouth watering. Before my craving can overwhelm me I shake off the distraction and return to the task at hand.

I'm not quite sure what I'll do if Tauriel refuses to help me. As I began to weave through the trees I am starting to realize just how much my "wonderful" plan hinges on her assistance. She owes me nothing and I owe her everything; she could easily say no and turn away. I'm sure that Thorin and the others would turn red with indignation that I even thought to acquire assistance from an elf, but Tauriel isn't most elves.

The grove is quite beautiful. The path I walk along is made of pale grey stones, having an almost white appearance. The leaves of the tall trees are bright green from the summer sun. The leaves rustle in the wind and jostle the bright red fruit alluringly. I sigh loudly; it is becoming apparent that I should have eaten before I went to investigate what had become of the dwarves this morning. I am starting to romanticize fruit.

I follow the path until there is a slight opening in the trees. I find a large green lawn with elves of all ages scattered about. Older ones sit to read or watch their children, who act out their favorite stories or play games like Seeker. In the center of the rolling green is a small pavilion made of intricately carved mahogany wood. Each exterior post breaks into smaller weavings that cross over the other breaks in another post to knot together at the top to provide the roof. The small pavilion houses two small benches, one of which sits Tauriel with a male elf I do not recognize. Luckily, she sees me and waves me over.

I clearly stick out amongst the elves in my black ranger garb. As I quickly make distance across the grassy surface, some elves inconspicuously grab their children to leave. They do not look at me, but they do not have to. I know this is because of the elf I hit the night before and though I do not regret my actions, I cannot deny that on some level it upsets me. I did not come to Rivendell to make friends, but I had not intended to bring fear into the homes of these elves. It saddens me that the elves fear for their children when I am near and that they must keep them from me; it is unlike the villages of men where I am welcomed far more warmly. While I have not earned such kindness I can't help wishing things could be different…

I do my best to ignore how much this bothers me as I approach Tauriel. She stands and embraces me, which I return, adamantly. I unconsciously hold her longer than I should and once I realize it my head hangs slightly lower, ashamed.

"Avathos baudh an cenedan eithai o mellon, Thoronen," she says gently.

A small smile comes to my face upon hearing the title both Tauriel and her father had bestowed me. It is enough to banish my embarrassment and look her in the eye. She wears a smile as well and her eyes shine brightly.

"Ihen?" asks the male beside Tauriel.

I look down at the elf sitting on the bench. His hair is a light brown color; all of it tied back into a ponytail with a leather thong. Unlike Tauriel, who still sports her tunic and breeches, wears a long flowing robe of light red material. I can vaguely see along his face the similar earthy tones that separate Tauriel from the Noldor or Sindar elves, but his posture and countenance does its best to imitate them; therefore I do not like him. Despite this, I will remain civil for Tauriel's sake…

"Hilas, this is Tahna. She's my ranger friend I have told you about," she answers. "Tahna, this is my cousin, Hilas."

My manners resurface as I extend my hand to the elf with a small bow. He stands and returns the gesture. The moment his hand touches mine he looks up at me with a sassy smile on his face. It reminds me eerily of the flirtatious expression Tauriel had given Kili the night before. He examines my mask with great curiosity.

"Lady Tahna," he acknowledges.

"Master Hilas," I respond. He gives me a quick smile before looking me over head to toe. I tense slightly at his scrutiny, but before I can comment he stands and looks to his cousin.

"Thelenni cendh na mat, gwenur," he says before leaving the pavilion and heading down the pathway I entered from. I watch him leave with glare of annoyance on my face; Tauriel ignores it, but navigates my body to take up the seat her cousin once occupied. Once she sits beside me I look back at her.

"What's wrong, Tahna?" she asks as she gently grips my arm.

"I need your help," I tell her earnestly.

"What can I do?"

"Lord Elrond has denied us passage into the High Pass. I need your help to sneak past the guards and get the company through."

She stares at me blankly for a moment, then she gently shakes her head from side to side.

"I don't understand…Why has Lord Elrond barred you from using the pass?" she asks.

I hesitate for a moment, knowing the time has come. I recall the half-truth I had given her the night before, and while she knew what it was, it didn't make what I am about to tell her any easier. I am only comforted by the fact that if it had to be any elf then at least it is Tauriel. Thorin may have my head for this later, but without Tauriel we would never see beyond the Misty Mountains.

"We are trying to reach the Lonely Mountain," I confess. "Lord Elrond fears that we may awaken the dragon and that it will journey west, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake."

There is a moment of silence as Tauriel takes in what I have just told her. "Then I was right," she says with a testy tone. "The kin you spoke of visiting are Erebor's dead if I'm not mistaken."

"I'm sorry that I did that," I answer her with what I hope she will recognize as sincere regret. "I…I was just trying to protect Thorin and the company."

"And you felt you needed to protect them from me?" she asks. Her tone is a little sad, but not angry. In fact, the lack of accusation in her voice has me staring at her face. However, I only see her usual understanding and kind expression. "I feel like I should be offended," she continues, "But you worry about them, and the relationship between elves and dwarves is hardly friendly. You wish for them to succeed so badly that you would protect them from me…I can't help feeling proud."

I can feel my eyes widen at her statement and it takes a moment for me to compose myself. "That's not what I had expected you to say."

She smiles brilliantly, "I understand. I'm head of Thranduil's guard and regardless of our friendship it is grounds for concern, but fear not for I shall not tell him of your plans."

A smile is hidden again by my mask. "I thank you."

After a brief pause of relief for me the conversation suddenly turns very serious. "If I do help you into the High Pass I need you to promise me something."

"What is it?" I ask. Her grip on my arm tightens and she keeps her eyes locked with mine.

"I need you to promise me you will not enter the Greenwood."

My heart freezes momentarily as I consider her request. I would never willingly enter the forest again, but I understand her concern. Thorin and the others desperately want to return to the mountain and I have been following their lead. If they decided to cut through Thranduil's realm I have no doubt that I would follow them; even my own fears wouldn't stop me from helping them, but I would be lying if I said that the thought didn't terrify me. As if sensing the fear I am experiencing Tauriel stands, and leads me to stand by lifting my arm with her hand; the movement jars me from my thoughts and providing me some relief by moving. We are joined at the elbow as we continue onto another path through the grove.

"I know you have no intention of going yourself, but dwarves are impatient creatures. I'm sure that if you told them about Gliwen they would not risk your life. Entering that forest will be your death. Thranduil has not forgotten and neither has Gelon."

I shudder a little at the mention of Gliwen's father. Thranduil, despite his promise for my execution should I enter his realm, doesn't scare me nearly as much as the thought of Gelon. It is said that once elves have allowed darkness to fill the spaces in their hearts they become orcs – I didn't know it was true until I had seen Gelon. After I had been brought to the elf king's palace with Gliwen dead in his arms, he had changed according to Hadrien. The hatred in his eyes never wavered. Looking at me directly would make his fingers twitch as though he could imagine choking the life out of me and the savage cries he had emitted as I was escorted from the elven kingdom were a sight I would never forget. I had created a monster…one that would, if given the chance, consume me.

"I know that you have prepared for such an instance," she says as she eyes my mask, "But I would rather it not come to pass."

"Neither would I," I answer humbly. "I promise that I will try my best-"

"That's not good enough," Tauriel cut in. We stop along the path and I can see a pained look in her eyes. It makes the light within them glow brighter. As I look at them I can recall a conversation I had with Hadrien shortly after our banishment from Mirkwood. We had spoken late into the night along the shores of Anfalas. My fellow rangers had spoken little to me since the incident and at the time Hadrien and Ethon were my only comfort…

* * *

" _Why don't you hate me?" I detest the way my voice trembles as I ask out loud what had been on my mind since we left the great eastern forest._

" _Hm?" he asks nonchalantly._

" _I think I know why you saved me and I am truly grateful, but it cost you your home and your daughter. Don't you hate me for that?" I roll over so I could look the red haired elf in the eyes._

 _He turns his head to look at me; his warm brown eyes shine from the firelight. "Do you want me to hate you?" There is something sad in his tone even though there is a small smile on his face as if it was meant to be reassuring._

" _No…But I'm curious why you don't already."_

 _He chuckles lightly as he turns to look back up at the stars, the sounds of the ocean roaring in the background. It is a warm and deep sound that reminds me of thunderstorms across the plains of Rohan. It is not what I expected from an elf – most of them being so light and airy that they might float away. His is more deep and grounded._

" _It would seem I have much to teach you."_

 _Teach me? "I don't understand."_

" _Then maybe I should start with something familiar to you. One of the reasons I saved you is because you remind me of my daughter." That I understand…sort of…_

" _I do? How?"_

" _You both have a sense of duty to protect the world, and the people in it, from the shadows that dwell there. I can also see that both of you feel regretful for things that are beyond your control," at this his face falters a little._

" _Did…did Tauriel do something wrong?" I hope that I am not crossing a boundary by asking._

" _Her mother passed during childbirth and she holds herself personally responsible. I wish she could see that it was not her fault, but she does regardless," he says with a light frown. "Her mother and I love her so much…she never would have wanted her to feel guilty."_

 _When I think of my mother it leaves me with a hollow and painful feeling in my chest. Looking at Hadrien I can see that he sincere and he is one of the few that makes me think telling him my story wouldn't pain me. There are only a handful of those in all of Arda; thinking about it reminds me that Ethon is sleeping a few bedrolls away. Before I know what I'm doing the words spill out of mouth, "Because of me, my mother and father are dead…and now Gliwen too."_

 _He turns his head to look at me, all smiles gone and in its place a serious expression, "I don't believe that." All I have in response is silence. He can believe whatever he wants, but that doesn't change the fact that it's true._

" _Can you guess what helped me to make up my mind to help you?" he continues._

" _No," I say with a shake of my head._

" _When you were brought before Thranduil and Gelon, your mind free from the forest's poison, you were in tears. There were even stains on your cheeks from when you had cried before I even saw you. It is clear just how much you regretted what you'd done," he pauses as if the image in his head was almost too much to bear. "In them I could see such sorrow and loss – hard and cold – that seemed to mirror a far off light, giving them the appearance of stars. Tauriel sometimes looks like she has stars in her eyes as well. It's a trait she shared with her mother and one you share with them."_

 _Moments pass as I think on what he says. I remind him of the people he loves and it truly is a good reason, but he didn't need to do that. Tauriel still lives in the forest realm; I am not a necessity…there is no real point in keeping me alive. It…I just…I don't understand. Maybe I have more to learn than I thought…_

" _If I didn't have that trait would you not have saved me?"_

" _Maybe. Maybe not. I would like to think so, but in the end it doesn't matter. It does no one any favors to dwell on what might have been," he says solemnly. At first I think he's done and turn to look back up at the sky. Then he adds with a sharper tone, "Although…"_

 _My head swiftly turns to see a strangled look on his face as wriggles on the top of his bedroll. "I'm sorely beginning to regret not having brought another set of small clothes. Why does sand have to stick to…everything?"_

 _His nasally tone and scrunched facial expression as he shakes his butt dramatically are enough to cause me to laugh out loud – accidentally startling our watchman for the evening by the fire. He had confided in me as we left the Greenwood that he had never been very far south. While there is natural sand along the river and the Long Lake (places he had been) he has never had a reason to sleep on it. To maintain vigilance for our quarry we made camp on the beach so I can only guess this is his first time. I know I should stop laughing, but I hadn't laughed in so long, I couldn't help myself. Even when my eyes start watering from laughing so hard I could still make out the smile on his face as he watches me._

* * *

I could now see the same stars we had spoken of on the beach in her eyes. I could tell that she fears for me and once more guilt is a familiar friend. This elleth lost her father because of me and regardless of the time the three of us spent together outside of Mirkwood I could not shake the feeling that I caused her harm. Carrying Hadrien's body to the edges of Mirkwood had been one of the longest marches of my life. At the end of it she was there in tears with her kin around her. I had seen those stars then too and then also they held no anger. Instead, after holding her father's body in her arms, she held me and we cried together; like sisters. Our entire relationship is founded on my failures and indiscretions, but that never seems to bother her. I have her loyalty and her love, but both are more than I could ever hope deserve.

…Maybe I could convince Thorin to take the northern route. It would take some time, but there is no hurry. It is quicker than the south and while there are several dark creatures it wouldn't be my first time going that way. We could slip through…I'm sure we could. We could even resupply in Thoth if we had to…

"Tahna…" Tauriel starts.

"I promise," I answer finally, "I promise that I will not enter Thranduil's realm."

She searches my face for a moment to see if I have given her yet another of my half truths. When she is satisfied she nods and a small smile settles on her face.

"I know the entrance well," she says, changing the subject entirely. "There are two guards there at all times. Sometimes more when goblins are willing to risk getting a little closer to the valley. However, there should only be two for now. I can bring them something to drink and subdue them with sleeping draught."

"They will accept it?" I ask rather surprised.

"My cousin," she says cautiously, "is one of the guards."

I feel slightly remorseful, thinking she is choosing me over her cousin. His face flickers through my mind and as I recall the analytical look on his face my morose thoughts fade. I also remember that elves live forever – he can get over it when I'm dead. I need her help now; time is of the essence.

"How would you have us make our way?" I ask. "There will surely be a couple elves watching our rooms."

"Leave out the balcony stairs one at a time," she explains. "If you are cautious, but swift you should manage to avoid them. Since our vision is poorer at night they will most likely think it a trick of the light. After that keep travelling along the lower stone paths. They will bring you to a stairway that eventually leads to these groves. No one should be here at night and the darkness will provide the perfect cover for your friends." She ends the comment with a smile.

A small smirk forms on my face, "It's a shame Kili won't get to say goodbye," the smirk only growing when a light blush forms on her face, "I think he was looking forward to another hug."

"He's…rather tall for a dwarf isn't he?" asks Tauriel. I stare at her blatantly until she looks me in the eye. The large smile on my face is hidden beneath the cool metal. "That doesn't mean I like being fondled," she adds defensively.

"It wasn't fondling. He just wanted a hug and as I recall you had no problems wrapping your arms around him," I laugh lightly. Her face adds a light smile to the expression.

"I wasn't just going to let him fall!" she exclaims.

"Sadly, it doesn't seem like he reciprocated…" I mumble under my breath. However, when I see her eyes widen and she opens her mouth I decide to leave the comment where it died. "Did you know he's an extremely good archer?"

She looks like she wants to say something about the other comment, but ignores it and tries to move on. "Is that so? There are not very many dwarven archers?"

"Of course not," I say conspiratorially. "Could you imagine the pain of accidentally drawing your beard into the bow?"

She giggles a little, "I suppose I sympathize." Then she thinks a little more. "His beard is not nearly as large as the others. Is he quite young?"

"Not really. He is of age for a dwarf, but I suppose he is one of the youngest in the company."

"But no beard?" she ponders. "I confess though that the look does suite him."

The smile on my face lingers. Tauriel, as far as I know, has never looked at anyone with "that" sort of interest. She never spoke of men of any race when we met outside the borders of the forest; she is far too busy trying to keep her home safe. To see her intrigued, with a dwarf of all things, makes for an interesting picture.

"Is this the path that will lead to the pass?" I ask, finally allowing Tauriel to escape the subject.

"Yes," she answers eagerly. "I will walk the length with you so that you will know the way."

"Is it long?"

"Somewhat," she responds.

"Then wait a moment," I say as I step away from her and towards the nearest tree. I start plucking whatever fruits are near and hoard them in one hand. In my eagerness, I remove my mask, allowing it to rest round my neck as I pop a cherry in my mouth. I maneuver around the pit as I walk back to Tauriel. She watches me with an amused look.

"I didn't eat this morning and those maddening little berries have been teasing me since I got here," I explain. I keep walking forward, missing the sly look in her eyes as we continue walking. I spit the pit out and toss in another.

"Enjoying those are you?" she asks. I can only nod my head as I try to take in my surroundings and focus on not swallowing the pit. "Did you know that several of the men, Lord Elrond included, planted this grove when they first arrived in the Hidden Valley? It is meant to honor their loved ones by providing shade and harvest."

I shrug in her direction. All elves, even male ones, enjoy surrounding themselves with trees and nature in general. Because of this I'm sure that the men garden regularly. Then add in that plants are considered a show of affection, then it doesn't really surprise me…

"Now that you know the back story I will rephrase," she says mischievously with a sinister smirk on her face. "Are you enjoying the taste of the men's berries?"

I clearly chose the wrong moment to be greedy and attempt putting two in my mouth at the same time. As I try to inhale from the utter shock of the inappropriate joke I almost choke. However, I manage to spit them out, throwing the upper half of my body forward to cough violently. The other cherries I had been holding slip from my hand as I try to regain my composure. I wouldn't want them any more at this point, anyway.

She leans closer to my hunched form to add, "It would seem elvish fruit doesn't agree with you. Maybe you need something a little more…firm?" I can't respond as my coughing increases and I nearly fall to one knee from the force of them. It takes me longer to get over my bout, but when I finally overcome the sensation I look up to see her smiling from ear to ear. Apparently my reaction is exactly as she had hoped.

"For the sweet love of Eru, woman," I rasp, "Are you sure it's Thranduil I need to concern myself with? You very nearly succeeded in killed me yourself." My comment amuses her so greatly she unleashes a fit of giggles. I could feel a flush on my cheeks and a pout forming on my lips so I slide the mask into place before she can see and comment on it. Her particularly smug look draws out a snappy comment of my own, "You don't seem interested in elvish berries either. Maybe you need something a little…stronger?"

I always lose these games so I don't know why I bother. She out matches me in experience and practice at a level I could never hope to achieve. I suppose Tauriel both surprised me with her casual tone and I feel the need to exact revenge. Her unelvish characteristics are one of the reasons I love her, but it can shock me sometimes just how different she can be from other elves. Hadrien hadn't been "normal" either and I had also loved him for it. However, this particular trait of being so…playful works against me as she takes the teasing in stride.

"Perhaps…do you have any recommendations?" she asks slyly. My flush grows beneath the mask.

"No," is my brief and automatic response the question. Luckily she seems to have taken the hint that I no longer wish for the conversation to continue, but wears an arrogant smile on her face. Whenever we banter like that she always has the higher ground; her father's incessant teasing made for proper training. Sadly, in that perspective I am inferior; not from lack of trying, but simply that I didn't have 600 years with Hadrien in my life (I barley had four). While I'm not mad at her, I accept the silence and allow myself to stew for the duration of the trip. However, I come to realize that I am mad, but whether it is at the fact that I can no longer eat cherries for the rest of my life or if her suggestion for something firmer conjures an image of Thorin at the fountain behind my eyes once more. My face becomes ever hotter and I choke on my spit as I can't help thinking, 'Dwarves don't have berries – they have stones.'

Sweet Valar above…between my elven friend and the dwarves I travel with, I seem to have lost my dignity…

* * *

Bilbo follows Nori and Oin through the elven halls. They already made quick stops to the kitchens and livery to stock up on food and proper supply packs. Now they are heading to the gardens to collect whatever Oin needs to restock his stores. They didn't have to be nearly so sneaky now. A healer and a hobbit, hardly seem suspicious to be out in the gardens of Rivendell. While they wander the dwarven healer would stuff his pockets full of plants and those he couldn't collect, he gave to Bilbo. Meanwhile Nori leans against the tree, with appearance of whittling a piece of wood, but more in hopes of dispersing any elves that might wander by. Bilbo couldn't help noticing that Nori's piece of timber would never take shape; it is more Bofur and Bifur's profession than his.

Bilbo stares out over the valley, mindlessly. However, his mind is actually abuzz with activity. He knew that in order to complete what the Company originally set out to accomplish they would need to sneak past the elves. Bilbo understands the need, but part of him, likely the Baggins side, reminds him continually fixated on just how rude it is to sneak off like thieves in the night. It aggravates Bilbo, considering how kind their host has been, but he knows he has to follow through; he has given his word after all. The more he thought about it, the more he realizes they are rather like thieves. They are taking what they need and sneaking away without even a thank you. On the trip back, he decides, he would come back to thank them properly. Another part of him tells him that he doesn't wish to disappoint the others…or her. The ranger, as Bilbo has come to know her, is only looking out for the good of the company.

Bilbo discovered her secret early on in the trip. He had gone to collect some mushrooms for their supper when he had seen her off to the side of the camp, nibbling on some Shepherd's Purse from under her mask. Now usually the plant is consumed for its anti-hemorrhaging properties, but only when one is injured. The ranger had been unharmed by the ghouls, as far as Bilbo was aware. The first days setting out from Bree the ranger had little difficulty keeping up with Thorin's rigorous pace or hunting for game. Bilbo even remembers when she came out of the woods with a pair of wild turkeys slung over her shoulders.

This brought Bilbo to the only other logical explanation he could think of. Women in the Shire would eat Shepherd's Purse to put off their monthly bleeds, and by extension, pregnancy. He had heard from his aunt Mirabella that by preventing the bleeding there is no way for one to beget a child. So they would eat the flora for a few months time until they wished to bleed again and then let their bodies naturally purge the blood. They could only do this for a few months or else they ran the chance of illness and infection; shortly after the cycles would return to normal. His aunt had gone on into far more detail than he would care, but it gave Bilbo the knowledge to see what the ranger was doing.

Once coming to this conclusion Bilbo made sure to go further into the forest to relieve himself or he would bathe further upstream of the company in case she should return early and accidentally see him. She never did, but it seemed like the polite thing to do.

Bilbo accepts another pile of plants from Oin, absent mindedly as the healer starts scanning the garden again. The hobbit's thoughts then return to the girl in the mask. She has kept herself well hidden with what is likely years of experience. He looks between Oin and Nori and wonders if they know. His inner Baggins tells him to remain quiet and let her secret remain just that. But his Tookishness is beginning to take hold. While the dwarves are not exceptionally clever – surely they have read into the signs. It's not like she is trying very hard to hide it after all.

"Is there any Shepherd's Purse?" asks Bilbo conversationally.

"Aye," answers Oin as he rummages through what looks like radishes. "Only a little – it should be out of season at this point. Better be sure to get some of that..."

At first that seems to be the end of it, but Bilbo continues cautiously in case they don't already know, "Maybe we should grab some for Kalar." At this Oin looks up at the company burglar with a guarded expression. There is a small silence as the son of Groin appraises the hobbit before him. In order to break the odd tension Bilbo adds, "He seems to enjoy it is all."

Oin's eyes shift to Nori briefly before returning to the task at hand. Bilbo raises an eyebrow at the lack of response to his inquiring comment. Surely they knew…He subconsciously shifts his weight on his feet as he tries to find the words to try again. He stops the motion and attempts to collect Oin's attention once more.

"Leave it be, lad," comments Nori from his perch. Since he hadn't expected Nori to comment his voice causes the hobbit to jump in alarm. He turns around to look at the whittling dwarf with a slight frown on his face. However, Nori is no longer whittling, but watching the hobbit with cautious eyes. "There is no reason to go snooping in matters that don't concern you."

Bilbo feels it is in his right to be rude and balk at the ginger openly for that statement. While they hadn't "snooped" as Nori put it, the company of dwarves he has taken to travelling with certainly encroached on his home the night they offered him employment. They made everything his business when they decided to eat everything in Bilbo's stores and threatened his mother's dishes.

"Matters that don't concern me?" Bilbo asks incredulously. "Am I or am I not a member of the company of Thorin Oakenshield?" Neither Oin nor Nori comment because they already know the answer so he continues on, "As a member I feel inclined to make sure that all of our comrades are well looked after." Still they do not react to his words so he decides to follow the dwarvish fashion of being blunt. "You are aware of the fact that Kalar is a girl, right?"

Both of them look up at him sharply now. Nori, however, keeps sight of the objective, "Oin keep lookin' we don't have much time left." At first Bilbo thinks he is being ignored once more, but rather than return to his perch Nori draws Bilbo in close to talk in a hushed tone.

"Of course she's a girl, ya ninny," he says. "I knew it the minute she nearly took my hand off."

"What?" asks the Shireling. "How?"

"Her hands," he answers. "She's a ranger through and through – the dry skin, cracked cuticles, and calluses. But they are also small and the fingernails are too narrow. As a…proprietor of sorts, I know what it takes to have nimble fingers; it one of the first things I notice about a person. After all of the bar brawls and bedroom conquests I've made, I'm sure I could identify a woman's hands from a man's."

"Why didn't you speak up or say anything then?" asks Bilbo, confused. He hopes to ignore Nori's "bedroom conquests" altogether.

"Did ya see her reflexes?" ponders Nori a little louder. "She is really good at what she does. I have faith in my kin, but I'm aware of the fact that every extra set of hands count, especially well trained ones. I don't entirely trust her motives, but she looks after us well enough and another set of eyes to watch over my brother is always appreciated."

"Does Dori know?"

"Nah. If he did he would likely pitch a fit and tell Thorin that it wasn't "proper"."

"Then you think Thorin knows?"

"He's been suspicious, but it doesn't look like he's sure about it."

"…What about Ori?"

"Aye," answers Nori with hint of smugness in his voice. "Course he knows. He's been drawin' portraits of all of us ya know – to put in the history books or somethin' like that. When he was drawin' her he would keep stoppin' and tell me that a lot of her features reminded him another maiden; even with that damned mask in the way.

"Some years back when we were travelling from Ered Luin to the Blue Mountains to live in Thorin's Halls he had been commissioned by some ranger named Dirhael to draw a portrait of his daughter, Gilraen. Ori was young, but it was clear had a natural talent and the old man paid well for his service. Kinda liked the old bugger myself…"

"So he doesn't know for sure?" asks Bilbo. He didn't mean to change the subject, but Nori seemed to be going off on a tangent.

"He asked me 'bout it...told him the same thing I told you, but he was persistent. Told 'em what I knew," he says rather fondly.

"And you?" the halfling asks as he rounds on Oin. "How did you find out?"

"What was that?" he said now feigning deaf ears.

"Come off it, Oin," shrugs Nori. "He's known too, but hasn't told either."

"What makes you say that?" says Bilbo now suddenly aware of the fact that he is just as guilty as the rest of them if Thorin does find out.

"Most of us figured you out when you started bathing separately and refused to piss with the rest of us. I was worried you were gonna blow her cover, but luckily Thorin was busy watching her rather than you. I think the wizard told him it was normal for hobbits to seek privacy for such things."

"Gandalf knows?"

"He's a wizard. I just assume he knows everything. Anyway, we wondered if you were going to tell, but when you continued and didn't say anything we knew you weren't gonna squeal."

Bilbo's face began to redden from embarrassment; from the indignation of being caught. Despite this he doesn't regret his choice. She saved them from the trolls and stuck by their side with the wargs. She has her rough edges to be sure – Bilbo is still in shock over the punch she had delivered to that innocent elf. They didn't deserve that even if they were being rude.

"Gloin actually noticed it first," Oin confesses.

"Gloin?" asks Bilbo incredulously. He thought Oin had seen her eating the plant, but this is news to him – all of it is. "How?"

"He was backtracking one day looking for his coin purse – oaf didn't realize he had hid it in his satchel back in camp, but made it as far back as where we had bathed earlier that morn. According to him she was wearin' enough to cover the important bits, but she had been washing her clothes and cleaning her armor," he says as he begins to tear off some sprigs of rosemary.

Bilbo's face flushes once more as he imagines the sight Gloin must have stumbled upon. "Didn't believe him at first; didn't think any woman would be daft enough to join us on this venture. Then Bofur brought me some plants from the nearby woods and roadside; one of 'em was Shepherd's Purse and thought that, since he had seen the ranger eat it, it would be good for eating. Without even thinking about it I told him it's rather bland for most; normally eaten by bleeders and women. Once I said it out loud we both knew it could only mean one thing," the dwarf explains.

"Bofur knows?" Bilbo asks with a raising voice. Did the entire company, aside from Dori and Thorin, apparently know?

"Aye," supplies Nori, "And if he knows that means that Bombur and Bifur surely know. The three of them have been working extra hard to make sure she's treated like the rest of us so Thorin won't be let on."

"But he suspects?" asks Bilbo, which earns him a nod from Nori. "Surely if Balin and Dwalin figure it out though…"

"Dwalin might know, but if he does he's keepin' that knowledge to himself. In honesty though, I don't think he cares much about gender so long as the person isn't a threat to his kin. Besides, some of the dams they have travelled with are just as fierce as our ranger. The lass is the last of his worries at the moment." Nori pauses as his brow furrows in thought. "The odd thing is Balin…its strange really. Normally he's the most level-headed of all of us, but when it comes to the lass, she just spins his head around backwards. I thought he would have been the first to figure it, aside from myself of course. It's like he's blind to it all or somethin'."

"And the boys – Fili and Kili I mean…do they-"

A combination of Nori and Oin's laughter drown out the rest of the question. In his head he remarks that it's rather rude of them, but listens to what they have to say. Oin recovers first to reply as he excavates and cleans off some ginger roots.

"Those boys, if you'll forgive my tongue, are quite dense. I'm afraid she'll need to spell it out for them and even then she may need to prove it before those stone heads figure it out."

After a heartbeat of silence Bilbo voices the question that has been bothering him for a while now; especially now that he was aware that the dwarves knew of the ranger's…condition, "Why would you keep up the ruse instead of telling Thorin about this? He's your king, your kin, your friend."

"Aye, he is," says Nori. "And that's why we're doing this. We are trying to protect him both from the dangerous of the journey and from himself. I'm sure you thought something similar when you found out and didn't say anything."

Bilbo's silence is enough to keep Nori going, "The Misty Mountains are brimming with goblins and with orc packs following us, and we need all the good help we can get. Tell me – would you prefer we tell Thorin, and chance him leaving her behind to face these dangers without her because it's "proper" or would you have her at your side when we run into trouble?"

Bilbo is silent for another moment contemplating the options and choices he made since discovering the truth about Kalar. Nori's reason had been very much his own, as well as one other. Kalar, whether she knew it or not, is an excellent storyteller. The first night she had started her tale it had almost physically hurt him to leave and bring the boys their supper. He had never heard of her people from the books he had accumulated in the Shire. So throughout the trip he began learning about her people as much as he could from both Balin and Ori. While her tragedy saddened him, it also intrigues him endlessly. He hoped more than anything that her tale would end happily; she has suffered enough for one lifetime.

"So ya understand then?" asks Nori rather demandingly. "Since we don't want to injure Thorin's honor and we want to keep the others safe, no one tells Thorin. Alright?"

The hobbit nods his head in understanding as Oin collects as much Shepherd's Purse as he can. The pile is far too small, but it's everything the gardens have to offer.

"Let's get back to the others," says Oin as he looks up at the sky. "Nightfall will soon be upon us."

* * *

 **Since Tauriel was an OC in her own right I don't feel too bad if some think she was OOC, but please let me know your thoughts and ideas.**

 **(My Horrible) Translations:**

Avathos baudh an cenedan eithai o mellon, Thoronen = Do not fear judgement for seeking the comfort of a friend, my eagle.*

Ihen? = Who is this?

Thelenni cendh na mat, gwenur = I will see you at dinner, cousin.

*I about died when I saw the elvish word for eagle was _Thoron_. Its way too close to Thorin for me to not use it.

 **Next time: NOW Thorin tells and promises that were made to be broken…**


	18. A Promise Broken

**Hey everyone. Life is just too…blah right now. I'm lucky that I even got this up tonight at this point. Anyway humor seems to be lingering a lot – there will even be some in the next chapter, though not likely afterwards.**

 **Again thank you so much everyone for your reviews on and the well wishes on my notice. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **angel897, decadenceofmysoul, and pourquoibella** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 **An Echo In Time** – _Nori being a thief and all I figured he would notice the little odds and ends of the realm of men. Also we all know Nori likes things to be HANDS ON. ;)_

 **inperfection** _– I'm glad you liked Tauriel's character. I always thought it was odd that she actually flirted back with Kili considering that she was an ELF. Like they are the definition of dignified so I thought I would expand it. Be sure to tell me what you think about her father in the next chapter._

 **0x0UnderDog0x0 and Christina Fey** – _Yep our beautiful dwarves are goofballs, but not idiots. The idea was kind of that they all knew before the trolls, hence the lack of reaction with the mask and the voice._

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She recently completed it and is a really good read!**

 **One of my reviewers is Lesliezin. I absolutely love her Thorin/OC story: A Shadowed Companion. All should read, it's fantastic and it's developing a turning point.**

 **Also while I don't think she has read my story I want to give a shout out to JMac322. She has just started the second part to her Thorin/OC story and I absolutely love it. Check out both parts. The first one is Home is Behind and the second part is The World Ahead. We correspond regularly so I'm sure she would love more conversation than just me! Go check her stuff out!**

* * *

 _Thorin stands on one of the upper level terraces of Erebor's merchant district. He can see a handful of his people wandering the large walkways below. There are many fewer than during the Golden Age, but at least there are some. They are craftsman who have staked out the best locations for their vocations once more dwarves arrive to the mountain. Construction is still underway, the sounds of hammers and the bellowing of the forges became a light droning noise in the market's background._

 _Thorin can't keep the smile off his face as they began to rebuild. He did it; he managed to secure the mountain for his people. Somewhere amongst the walkways and decrepit buildings both Bofur and Dori have selected buildings of their own. The rest of the company found positions amongst the nobles or working class and had no real interest in starting their own business. However, as members of his company, and now close friends, he is almost as excited as them to see their shops prosper._

" _Anxious, my king?"_

 _Thorin turns to face the ranger, to chastise her for sneaking up on him, but his words die in their place. She wears a simple dark blue dress that gives the appearance of clinging to her shoulders. The neckline, which cups her chest nicely, and cuffs are lined with a golden dwarvish design. The fabric is solid and flows easily down to her feet where blue and gold felt slippers stick out. She wears a thin belt made of golden overlapping plates that almost look like scales and in the center a small buckle with the House of Durin's insignia. The stars, which are studded with sapphires, seem to rest on the points of the crown as though holding them up. Beneath the crown is the hammer and anvil, made of onyx. It is delicate work, but clearly the dwarf who made it had been passionate about the piece_

 _Her hair is tied back into single plait with a silver ribbon holding back her hair. Framing her face are the two warrior beads she never received from her parents. One bears Fili's mark and the other is Kili's; it seems that the boys got their wish and gave Tahna the sister in arms gems which rest above the beads. They would have been new beads if she was male, but the rubies suit her nicely. Around her eyes charcoal lines them, making her eyes more vibrant. Her lips are also no longer chapped, giving them a proper fullness Thorin hadn't seen on the journey._

 _She looks lovely for one of the race of men. Thorin has been amongst men for a long enough time that if he were entirely forthcoming he would say that his taste in women reflects that. He had come to appreciate their bare faces and could overlook their height if he liked them enough. So in the recesses of Thorin's mind he thought her lovely regardless of race._

 _Her mouth invitingly breaks out into a smile, curving the delicate scar in the corner of her mouth. He watches the flawed skin as he offers her a hand to join him, not even questioning his actions as he does so. She approaches and slides her hand into his, allowing herself to be lead to the stone rail that overlooks the district. As she looks out over the ruined city she rubs her thumb over the back of his hand in a soothing motion._

" _Soon, Thorin, soon," she smiles at him. "The boys are so excited. They can hardly wait for Dis to arrive. I think that Dwalin and Dain may very well sit on them if they don't behave."_

 _Thorin's small smile splits wider at the thought of his nephews excitedly running around Erebor in preparation for their mother's arrival. He had not seen his sister in over a year and now she is returning to the place of her birth, she is coming home. Thorin can't help also noting that it would be the first time she met Tahna as well; she had heard of Fili and Kili adopting a sister, but soon they would meet face to face._

" _Are you nervous?" he asks as he tries to ally her fears._

" _A little," she confides, "After all, the way you all speak of her makes her sound…intimidating."_

 _Thorin chuckles a little, recalling a poor joke on Dwalin's part, that Dis was the Dragon of the Blue Mountains. She is a right terror when she wants to be. But rather than tell her that he brings her knuckles to his lips. Letting them run over the callused skin of her knuckle as a show of comfort and affection._

" _Do not fret. She will love you as we all do. You have helped us reclaim our home and saved us more times than we can count. That will surely count for something. After all, you are the first human to live in Erebor in over three centuries," he says confidently._

 _Never had a human been adopted into the royal family, but he would not deny his sister-sons and in truth he liked having the ranger around. Despite the council's suspicions she has easily earned her place among them._

" _I can't think of anywhere else I would rather be," she returns. Thorin breaks eye contact with her for a moment to look out over the promise of what will once more be a bustling city. With hope in his heart and a kind hand in his, he feels contentment. With everything before him he is overwhelmed with emotions that he rarely experiences and it makes him rather energetic, but rather relaxed at the same time. It is all too complicated to explain…_

 _He begins to notice Tahna's grip tightening on his own. So with a laugh he continues, "Truly, Dis is not that frightening. Except when blackberry pie is involved. Did Fili ever tell you – Tahna that's starting to hurt!"_

 _He has never met a human that could put that much pressure on his hand. He looks up at her both angry and concerned, but what he sees stops his heart, cold. Rather than meeting Tahna's warm, golden eyes he meets Smaug's golden orange with a gapping black slit. The eyes are distorting her face, large orbs that shouldn't manage to fit on her face. Her nose has almost disappeared into her face, the nostrils forming jagged V shapes on her face and her mouth is now lined with pointed teeth. Everything is too large to fit properly on her face, but manages just barely to retain the human features. Her abused form leans in closer and drags him from the railing with the steely grip she has on his hand. Thorin, still in shock, has become her prey and is now trapped._

" _Soon, my king," hisses a voice that is not hers. Her large yellow eyes gleam wickedly as she adds, "Soon."_

 _Thorin cries out in hopes that someone will hear him, but the sounds cannot be heard as the drone that had once been in the background now fills the large chamber beneath the mountain. He tries once more, but no one would be able to hear it as he is consumed by the flames emitting from Tahna's maw._

* * *

Thorin jolts awake. He pants as he tries to collect his breathing. He takes in his surroundings, now recalling he is still stuck in the elvish city of Rivendell. It takes a few moments before he can collect himself. His face burns as though he had been leaning over a forge…or had a brush with dragon fire.

"Thorin?"

Dwalin's voice cuts through the still silence of the chamber, startling him. Looking at his second in command he can see the concern for his friend written across his face. The others are beginning to rise and pack their things. They had forgone the elvish dinner after eating a large afternoon meal that would hopefully satiate them until they were far enough away from Rivendell. For a few moments Thorin has no words allay his friend's fears because he is trying to shake them off himself.

Dwalin turns to Gloin, "Have everyone ready to move out at a moment's notice. Once the ranger returns come fetch us."

Gloin nods as Dwalin heads over to Thorin and extends a hand to pull him off his sleeping roll. He waits for Thorin to start walking so he could follow him. They go to the balcony and partly down the stone path that descends to the fountain they bathed in earlier. Thorin leans against the wall between two steps and relishes the cool air. They remain there as to not be too far away from the company when the ranger returns. After a few moments Thorin regains his composure, but cannot meet his friend's gaze.

"Which one was it?"

Thorin twitches slightly at the question. It shames him to know that he is so affected by night terrors from battles past that they are considered uncommon. However, he does take pride that he requires no coddling like a dwarfling. Dwalin usually doesn't ask; he usually doesn't have to. Somehow during their long lives, Dwalin has reached the point where he can easily identify every dream Thorin is having, but tonight he wouldn't have recognized it.

Fili and Kili once tried to help after seeing him like that. He had only told them that it would be best if they forgot the incident entirely. While they have headed Thorin's warning so far, they would watch him from time to time with concerned looks in their eyes from a distance. He knew they mean well, but he doesn't need any spectators. He needs…

 _Would you like to be alone with your thoughts?_

"Usually I can tell which one ya were thinking about," Dwalin continues. "But I ain't seen this one before."

The taller dwarf knows his king isn't one to pour his heart out – in truth that would be quite disturbing. But the simple fact that Dwalin cannot place what had frightened Thorin so is also discomforting. It's one of the few times he wishes Thorin would open up to him.

"Tell me what's on yer mind, Thorin. Mahal knows the strain it will be under once we finally get that crown of yours. It'll add more weight so it would be best if we could get rid of as much dead weight as we can," it brought Dwalin a little joy to see the faintest twitch in Thorin's lips.

Thorin still won't look him in the eye, but at least he seems to be listening to Dwalin. A silence lapses over the pair and for a moment Dwalin thinks that he will say nothing more on the matter, but then Thorin surprises him.

"I was right," he says finally.

"…I'm sorry," offers Dwalin, "I don't think I heard you quite right. You mind repeatin' that for me?"

While Thorin isn't above admitting when he's wrong (regardless of the hassle it takes to get even there), he has never had 'being right' a reason to cause nightmares. It is a new one that Dwalin isn't prepared for.

"The ranger," starts Thorin, "She's a girl."

Dwalin allows the comment to sink in for a moment and he wonders if Thorin's doubts are still getting the better of him. "Thorin, you can't know that for sure…"

"I know," he responds instantly, then as if rethinking his words, he adds, "I'm sure."

Dwalin takes the hint from the tone of voice that there is no need to ask how sure the king is and so he shifted to the dilemma that is likely troubling Thorin's mind.

"Then what are we going to do about it? Is she gonna leave now that we know?" he asks.

Thorin shoots him a confused look complete with scrunched eyes and pursed lips. "No," says Thorin, "She's not trying to leave. In fact, I do believe she has blackmailed me into letting her stay."

"Thank Mahal for that. Then what's the problem?" says Dwalin casually. Thorin stares blankly at his friend. Did Dwalin not realize the implications if Thorin permits the girl to continue with them? Thorin allows his annoyance to cover the surprise of Dwalin's reaction from his face. The axe wielding warrior recognizes the look. "What?" he asks.

"Does it not concern you that she lied to us?" Thorin asks harshly. "Does it not bother you that by letting us unwittingly bring her along it questions our honor?"

Dwalin's eyes widen slightly, "That's what has you bothered? The status of our honor? How does bringing a lass with us damage that? She's skilled and we are in need of her talents. How is she any different than any of the dams we travelled with over the years?"

"Those dams were with us for protection, they weren't charged with facing a dragon at the end of the road," Thorin counters. "You and Balin agreed that she is young even for her kind."

"You're changing the subject, lad," Dwalin states. "Is this a matter of age, gender, or our honor? We have travelled with many a dwarrowdam and all have proven themselves capable to defend themselves. I'll be sure to tell Dis to give you a reminder once she returns to Erebor." Thorin smiles a little at the thought. "Just because the realms of men do not hold their women in as high of a regard doesn't mean you have to the same to the poor lass."

"I do not think less of her because she is a woman or a human," Thorin argues. He can already sense that Dwalin has made up his mind about the subject.

"Neither do I. It's rare to find a human as loyal as her," Dwalin concedes. "Then it must be age that makes you hesitant. She'd be a little older than you when the dragon came upon us. And how different is she from you back then? She has lost her family, her home, and much like us has taken to wandering. You have heard and seen her skills fist hand – you know she is not a child Thorin. She is a woman of sound mind and can make decisions for herself, a young one I'll grant ya, but a woman none the less."

"That doesn't make it right…"Thorin expresses weakly. What Dwalin doesn't know is that he is very much aware that Tahna is a woman. So he fights the blush on his cheeks as he tries to find another reason to deny her.

Dwalin seems to puff up a little at this, "I know honor is important to any dwarf, especially you Thorin. When elves and men have so little it is important that we uphold ours as best we can, but let us be honest here. When we had to move our dams from Ered Luin to the Blue Mountains how many pretended to be men? How many had to take on roles to protect themselves and their children? We cannot hold it against her Thorin. Just because Children of Men have more women among them doesn't mean they shouldn't protect themselves."

"That is the point," Thorin surges. "Just because she is human, Imelkane born or not, and we should keep her safe."

"Keep her safe?!" asks Dwalin incredulously. "Who was it who saved us from the trolls? The burglar stalled for time until it the ranger came to save us! It would be stupid on our part to leave her behind." Thorin realizes that he could not ignore the facts, but that didn't make it any easier. "She has been facing all manner of dark creatures since her people fell, same as you and me. Her skills are a necessity we cannot do without." Thorin silently stares out over the valley, knowing what the only choice really is. It doesn't sit well with him; he had brought the ranger along to try and show that he still had command over his company despite the wizard's overhanging will. How did this one human woman manage to turn that thought around and smack him in the face with it?

"Then it's decided," says Dwalin eerily mirroring Tahna's words. "We will keep her with us. If your still worried about I will keep an eye on her and I'll make sure the others don't find out. None of them would think less of you for wanting to keep her, you know?" Thorin's eyes snap up at the insinuation, but Dwalin doesn't let it bother him, "Don't give me that look. I know that is bothers ya more than anything else." Thorin isn't going to make himself look more guilty by denying it, but he breaks eye contact with his second in command.

"I'm curious though," Dwalin starts. "How'd she blackmail you into anything?"

"The map," Thorin responds bitterly.

"Ah," answers Dwalin as if it explains everything. For the most part it did, but there is one question lingering that Dwalin now feels more comfortable asking. "So…how did ya find out he's a she?"

Thorin doesn't answer, just shifts on his feet and draws his arms in a little tighter over his chest. His face gives nothing away, but Dwalin notices the slight coloring of the king's cheeks amongst the whiskers of his beard. At this reaction Dwalin initially raises an eyebrow until he recalls having found the ranger and the king in the bathing room. A smug grin breaks out over the taller dwarf's face. Thorin looks up to see this and then opens his mouth to prevent Dwalin from suggesting anything when Bofur appears.

"The ranger's back," he says hurriedly. "He says he's ready to read the map whenever you're ready, Thorin."

As quickly as the Firebeard had appeared, he swiftly makes his way back up the stone steps. Thorin is eager to follow to avoid the topic the conversation has turned to. However, Dwalin is not ready to let it go just yet. He so rarely finds the opportunity to tease Thorin as he had when they were younger. Now when it presents itself he cannot resist.

"Thorin," Dwalin pauses momentarily to make sure he has his friend's attention. Thorin, being the good friend he is, turns around even at his own detriment. Thorin's agony is clear in his eyes, but Dwalin shows him no mercy. He enthusiastically throws his hands up to his chest as though to grab his mail, but the bent fingers hang just above it.

"I know you prefer a lass with an ass, but I got to know. How big are they?" he asks with a flex of his fingers.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Kili," I mumble. "I didn't even know you remembered our conversation."

"It's alright," he sadly murmurs. "You were working on getting us out of here. You couldn't have known."

As we made ready to leave Kili had pulled me aside. Apparently he had seen Tauriel and I somewhere while we were going over the escape plan. When I returned and Kili approached me with a sad face I was overwhelmed with concern. After asking him quietly what was wrong he told me he had wished to see Tauriel again. We stood away from the others so that the others wouldn't know he had been looking forward to seeing the elleth again; as well as apologizing again for his behavior. The fact that he remembered the conversation set me on edge, but he made no mention of what I had told him.

"Don't worry, Kee," I pause for a moment wondering when I started calling the heirs of Durin by their favored nicknames, "I'm sure there will be another opportunity to-" A loud sound has me looking up at the balcony, but when I see nothing I return to my statement, "Talk to her again." His crestfallen face has me resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "After all, elves do live a very long time."

He gives me a slight smile and opens his mouth to say something more when something else draws his attention. "What in the Maker's forge happened to you?"

I turn to see Dwalin now outlined by the moonlight on the balcony. Everyone else is looking at the gruff dwarven soldier as well and upon extended examination I can see what Kili originally caught. His beard and remaining hair are entirely askew and there is a small, steady trickle of blood going down the side of his head. His hands are on his hips with his thumbs tucked into his belt, a large shit-eating grin plastered on his face. I can't help wondering if he actually managed to get into a fight with some of the elves.

Balin silently approaches his brother, handing him a cloth to put pressure on the cut. He just shakes his head and the others leave it alone, even though they have confused looks on their faces. Thorin comes in from outside behind his friend, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze. He heads straight to his pack and finishes putting away any remaining items and securing his bed roll. I look between them a moment before my eyes drift to Dwalin hoping my raised eyebrow is enough to have him answer my question.

"Don't ya worry about this, lad," he finally says with a twinkle in his eye. "It was well worth it."

My eyebrow rises higher, seriously considering that he may have killed some elves. But he gives me an odd looks before seeing to his own pack. I want to inquire about this outlandish…behavior, but we are on a time limit. I can't let Tauriel's assistance be in vain. Night only lasts so long in summer. I head over to Thorin and hold my hand out.

"The moon is high enough. I can read it now," I explain.

Thorin pulls the map out of the inner breast pocket of his coat and hands it to me without even looking at me. However, he hesitates only slightly as I can feel the heat radiating from his glove as it brushes over my cool fingertips. I ignore the tingling sensation it leaves as I open the map.

I'm confused, but it is clear that I will receive no answers from either of them. I suppose that I will never know what happened, but it doesn't really seem important. I stand just where the moonlight enters the room. The torchlight behind us is my only other source of light. I kneel so that the others can see as well. Like clockwork they surround me, each watching the map with baited breath. The effect, while not instantaneous, is fast. It only takes a moment or so of moonlight on the paper for the mithril to fill the paper. The words glow a light silver and blue color as the runes reveal themselves. The others release a sigh of relief and I think I can sense Balin patting Thorin's arm.

"What does it say, lad?" asks Gloin eagerly.

Now that I am done being in awe of the spectacle myself I start reading over the runes. I can feel my face scrunch up in confusion. The words are clear to me, but the meaning is not. I read it once more and still do not understand.

"I don't know what the words mean," I confess.

"Perhaps it's in Khazdul," suggests Balin. "If you write it down we can translate it."

"No the words are Westron, but they do not form a riddle," I huff. "I do not understand."

"Read it aloud," says Thorin.

"'Stand by the Grey Stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's day will shine upon the keyhole'," I read. I look back up at Thorin and our eyes meet, "What does it mean? It's not a riddle…"

I wait for an answer, but Thorin just seems lost for some reason. His expression is peculiar and looks at me with some emotion I can't determine. I'm worried what the others might think, but thankfully Balin supplies the response.

"Thrushes were used to communicate by the men of Dale, much like the ravens of Erebor. They usually collected along the western slope of the mountain. That also corresponds with the message in the margins with the hand pointing at the western spur." The hand in the margins had clearly pointed out the way to find the door. It is described as 'Five feet high the door and three may walk abreast.'

"And the gray stone?" I ask. I'm worried that we will miss something…

"It's another hint at the location. By describing the stone we know it must be greywacke on the upper slopes where we will find the door. That means we will need to look for stairs."

I look over the last part again, now more fearful, "And the rest of it? Does it mean we need to make it there before Durin's day?"

"Precisely," says Balin. A cold dread settles in my limbs as I try to calculate just how much time we have left.

"What's Durin's day?" asks Bilbo, curiously.

"It's the dwarvish New Year when the last sun of autumn and the first moon of winter meet in the sky," says Bofur.

"We only have a few months," grumbles Dwalin. My throat tightens as I realize the northern route would take too long. We wouldn't have enough time.

This seems to knock some sense into Thorin as he lurches back away from our little group. "Then let us waste no more time here. Douse the torches and the fireplace. All of you make ready. Master Baggins stay close to Dwalin. Ranger, where do we go?" he commands.

I'm frozen as I stare at the map. My mind cannot think much farther past the date the parchment indicates. We have to go through Mirkwood; there is no other way. We would only just make it with the Elven path…

"Ranger!" says Thorin sharply. I meet his intense blue eyes once more. He had been quiet and none of the others seem to have noticed our interaction just yet, but it gives me the moment I need to collect myself. I move towards my pack further in the room with Thorin following.

"There is a path behind the fountain at the bottom of the stairs," I notice Balin has now returned to our side and listens carefully. "We need to go one at time to lower the risk of being caught. Then wait for me and I will lead us the rest of the way."

"Why don't you go first?" asks Thorin with a low rumble.

"I just entered the room. I can't be the first to leave. Not to mention my eyes are not as good as yours I need a little more time," I offer. I quickly find myself useless anyway as I stand in front of my pack looking at it without even bothering to touch it.

Thorin looks like he's about to say something else, but Balin cuts in, "Sure thing, lad. Alright then laddies, let's line up here. Along the wall…" He drifts away to the others who move to follow his instruction. I hand the map back to Thorin without looking at him, my mind preoccupied with the thoughts of our new time limit. I didn't anticipate his hand enclosing around mine. I look up at him and find his eyes highlighted by the light of the moon behind him.

Blue eyes are the rarest of colors among the children of Imelkane – gold and brown being the most common. I know I'm fond of the color myself, but the look in them makes my heart skip for a moment. "What's the matter?" he whispers so the others can't hear.

"It's a personal matter…" I try.

"If it is going to affect our journey or my men then it is no longer personal," he growls.

Out of my peripheral I can see Nori is the first to slip out into the night. When my eyes meet back with Thorin's I tell him the truth.

"I…I promised I wouldn't set foot in those lands again," I whisper.

The slightly angry look in his eyes dissipates. "What lands?"

"The realm of the Elvenking," I confess. "I had been hoping to discuss a northern route with you, but now…"

"We would never make it in time for Durin's day…" he breathes in understanding.

"I know," I answer. I look away to see Fili and Kili scramble outside together. Those knuckleheads…they can't seem to listen to orders tonight. It brings a sad smile to my face.

"Then what will you do?" asks Thorin. I look at him once more and while he tries to remain neutral to whatever my decision may be, he is clearly anxious as his eyes shift across my face.

It hurts. It really hurts. I can feel the stinging pain in my chest as I have to choose between the dwarves that have become something like friends or Tauriel who is much like a sister to me. How can I possibly make this choice? Tauriel has been patient with me and understands my inner workings. She has never asked me for anything before today. Am I really ready to go against her one and only wish? I'm almost prepared to ask Thorin to let me stay. I'm sure it would ease his mind if I remained.

Then I picture them scattered amongst the dark and draining woods. They would go half mad from starvation or dehydration and the rest would be from the forest's magic. A more horrifying image draws itself from my mind. Rather than my own experience of waking from the magic with my sword through Gliwen's heart, it's Kili holding the sword and Fili bleeding out on it. My heart seizes in fear. I could clearly imagine the horror on Kili's face when he realized what he had done and Fili's eyes fluttering closed forever as he whispered his forgiveness on his last breath. The dwarves hadn't been to the forest realm in centuries; they are entirely unaware of the darkness and shadows that linger there.

Dwarves may be sturdier than humans, but I only made in as far as a few days would allow. With our troop making the whole trip it would take weeks to make it to the other side. Even they would be susceptible after that amount of time. Not only the dwarves, but the little hobbit as well. He is so much more pliant; he would easily give into the forest's magic. The image rears again using Thorin's eyes to create Fili's glazed look in my mind. It's too horrible and I look away. I can't let them go in there without help.

"Tahna," he whispers. I open my eyes again and I can feel my hand shaking in his. In a desperate attempt to calm myself I squeeze his hand to remind myself he's solid. "If you cannot do this I will not begrudge you. Unlike most men you do your best to honor your word. If this is-"

"I promised you first," I say, finally finding my voice. "I gave my word in my father's name to help you and your kin. I cannot…I can't break that oath either." My voice cracks near the end.

Thorin looks like he wants to say something else, but Bofur cuts in.

"Thorin, yer next," he says. Thorin looks back at me, unsure, but I give him a nod in hopes that it will appease him. He quietly makes his way to the doorway. After a quick look around outside he hurries out the door. Bofur turns to look at me as I shoulder my pack. "Ya alright?"

"I will be," I answer. I had to be. A quick look around tells me that we are the only ones left. I look at him and tell him, "Go. I'll be right behind you."

"Don't you need help to see?" he asks.

"I can make it to the stairs," I say. "Go on."

He nods to me before hurrying out after his king. I approach the balcony as well – the night time air chilling me, despite the summer heat. For a moment disgust overwhelms me. How could I do that to her? She's my best friend and I have forsaken her for a second time. While this does pain me, I know I could never live with myself if I let the dwarves enter the forest without me. If I stay safe as promised and one of the company were to die because me…I couldn't bear it.

At least if I break Tauriel's promise no one would have to die; maybe me, but that's hardly a loss. While acutely aware of the betrayal I would be committing against Tauriel, but it is a risk I am willing to take.

All at once I can feel bile rising in my throat and tears stinging my eyes. My mask almost seems to stifle me at the moment rather than the protection and comfort I am used to. I inhale and exhale a shaky breath as I try to right myself. I take off in a sprint down the stairs, bringing my nausea and heartache with me.

The dwarves are lined up the way they left, but wait along the stairs. I take the lead with Thorin right behind me. At first we seem to be doing quite well until…

"Of course I was going to tell you, I was waiting for this very chance. And really, I think you could trust that I know what I am doing," says Gandalf on the bridge above us. I throw up my hand to pause our advance.

"Do you? That dragon has slept for sixty years. What will happen if your plan should fail? If you wake that beast?" asks Lord Elrond. Damn elf…

I look down at the others and instruct them silently with Nezkish as they watch me carefully.

 **One at a time. Keep down the path when you come to a large hallway stop and make a left. There will be a small outcropping – wait there.**

"But if we succeed... If the Dwarves take back the mountain, our defenses in the East will be strengthened," retorts the wizard. I usher dwarves through as the conversation continues.

"It is a dangerous move, Gandalf," advises the elf.

"It is also dangerous to do nothing. The throne of Erebor is Thorin's birthright. What is it you fear?" asks the wizard reasonably.

"Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind, his father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall? Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone…"

The elf continues, but I cannot hear them anymore. I look over at Thorin next to me and I can see that he had been listening the elf's words more than he should. His eyes are distant. He is fearful and doubtful…a dark wondering has wormed its way into his mind. With a tap on his shoulder I pull him out of his reverie.

 **Don't listen to him.** I sign.

Thorin wears a haunted expression and responds. **He is not wrong.**

I do not know all of the horrors that haunt these sons of Durin; however, if this is one of them I don't think the elves should be considered experts. **Perhaps, but there is something he is taking for granted.**

 **Which is?** He seems almost defeated.

 **He doesn't know you.** I sign with ease. He looks at me assessing my words for a moment, but I am aware that we hardly have the time. So without permission I take his hand and lead him back to the others. I couldn't help noticing that he didn't pull away.

* * *

We make it back to the groves with no fuss as we sneak through the trees, the light of the moon lighting the path to act as our guide. There is a slight delay when Kili tries to jump to one of the lower branches for the same cherries I craved earlier. Luckily this is rectified when Dwalin snatches him by the collar and brings him back to the line of dwarves. Once through there we climb steps up a steep incline towards the rockier walls of the valley. Quickly the elven city is hidden behind the twist and turns we take to enter the pass. As it becomes harder to see Dwalin sticks closer to Bilbo and Thorin seems to pair up with me.

The gate is nothing more than a narrow portion of the path with two stone pillars. The gate itself has a few yards of visible space before you can reach it; meaning that we have to make sure we aren't spotted. I make sure we stop before anyone can enter the open. I try to look up and see, but it's hard for me to make out much more than the gate itself.

"Nori," I call quietly. The dwarf perks up and approaches me. "I can't see the gate. Tell me what you see."

He very carefully moves across me to lean up against the stone as far as possible and see what lies ahead. He stills as to not bring attention to himself should anything catch him moving. Then he slowly slides back to look at me.

"There are two guards, but it looks like they got into Madame Fryse's wine cupboard," he says mutedly. I have no idea who Madame Fryse is, but I will assume that means they have succumbed to the drought.

"The sleeping drought is in effect then," I think aloud. "Everyone move quietly and swiftly." I receive nods from the company as I usher them forward. The gentle clanking of their weapons, armor, and assortment of pans are the only sounds in the air. I watch the company members start up the stairs. Those that pass through the gate take an extra moment to look between the guards for any sign of waking. The dwarves maneuver the steps with ease, but Bilbo does have some trouble as he struggles to look ahead. Dwalin helps him through it though; it's almost funny when Bilbo nearly walks into the stone walls lining the path just beyond the gate.

I start up the gate myself with Bofur, Thorin, and Bifur behind me; I try my best, but without the pale stones to take in the small amount of light produced by the crescent moon I find myself struggling. When I make it to the gate after following Balin's white hair my eyes leave the path to look at Tauriel's cousin, sleeping peacefully against a pillar. Because of this I accidentally trip and catch myself with my hand, but a hand wraps around my waist to pick me back up.

"Careful now, lad," says Bofur with a smile. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we would prefer you intact when we reach the mountain."

It's enough to put on a weak smile underneath my mask. Bofur and Bifur pass me up to continue to follow the others. This leaves me with Thorin once more.

"You need not do this," says Thorin. "I would not force this upon you. It is clear that this choice is eating away at you. I would prefer not to cause you such pain. If we must we can continue on without you."

I realize that Thorin is offering me a way out once more; a chance to keep my promise to Tauriel. It is kind of him, but I cannot accept it. There is no choice; not for me.

"I can't. You have no idea what is in that forest. It is no longer the Greenwood of old, even some elves have left that forsaken place," I say with Hadrien in my mind, "I would protect you from the horrors within if I can. I shouldn't have made that promise in the first place."

A quiet moment passes between us before Thorin offers his hand out to me. At first I'm a little surprised, but when you think about it, it's not. Thorin has been kind and generous with me despite the lingering bitterness he felt over my secret. I cannot deny, however, that his offer to help me…pleases me somehow.

With one last look at the guard I take it and he helps me up the next few steps. Then as we are about to turn around the curve of the path I see something in my peripheral. Thorin pulls on my hand, but I hold back as my heart sinks into my stomach. I look back up at Thorin and withdraw my hand.

"I'll be right behind you, but I need a moment please," I ask.

Something in Thorin's face seems to harden somewhat, but nods his head in acquiescence. He continues up the path without me. Once he is out of sight I turn to look back down the slope. Already halfway up the stair is Tauriel and she closes the distance to hug me. I hold her tightly as I can feel her lips in my hair. She must not have been here long enough to hear what I had said to Thorin earlier.

"Be careful, Tahna," she murmurs. "I know that there is a dragon at the end of your path, but if anyone can defeat Smaug it will be you. Be sure to visit me when you are done, Thoronen. I would very much like to hear your tales of dragons and dwarves." She pulls back slightly with a bright smile on her face. Looking at her gleaming green eyes is so painful that I am forced to bury my face in her neck and drawing her close once more. I would tell her the truth now and apologize for breaking my promise, but I know she would not let me leave if I told her. My eyes burn from holding back tears and my throat is constricted.

"Don't feel like you have to rush," she says lovingly. "If you find the dwarves too precious to part with I won't pry you from them. Maybe I would come to visit you in Erebor. I could see the look on their faces even now." She slowly draws back placing one more kiss on my brow. "I have to leave. I can hear one of your dwarves returning for you. Na lû e-govaned vîn."

She silently turns and retreats down the path. It is only when she finally leaves my line of sight that the words fall off my tongue.

"Goheno nin, Tauriel," I whimper. I half hoped she heard me, but I know she's already gone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, Elruin…"

"Didn't mean to what?"

I look up to see Fili along the path, standing where Thorin had only been a short while ago. I can't make out much of his face – mostly his hair and the beads of his mustache that stand out against the dark stone. As he moves closer though I can see the frown on his face.

"Kalar, you're crying," he states. Surprised, I moved my hands to feel the wetness on my cheeks. He watches me worriedly, but I try to shake it off.

"Don't worry, Fili. I'm fine," I say as I try to step towards him, but with my blurry eyes I end up tripping once more. This time Fili catches me before I can land face first on the unforgiving surface. When I look up at him I can see the worry in his eyes, but he slowly breaks into a small smile as he pulls me up. I put a hand on his shoulder for balance and he puts a hand on the small of my back. He measures his steps now to help me move along.

"It's alright, namadith," he says. "I've got you."

With Fili next to me it didn't make the guilt on my shoulders go away, but it did make my steps a little easier to take.

* * *

 **(My Horrible) Translations:**

Thoronen = my eagle.*

Na lû e-govaned vîn = Until we meet again

Goheno nin =Forgive me

Elruin=Star Fire

namadith=little sister

*I about died when I saw the elvish word for eagle was _Thoron_. It's way too close to Thorin for me to not use it.

 **Next time: Tahna reflects on how far she's come…**


	19. Reflection

**Hey everyone. Sorry, but I need the extra couple of days to make this part. I had them sitting in front of me like puzzle pieces, but putting them together was a little hard because I wanted it to flow a little more. So I apologize if this is a little boring.**

 **Not only that, but I was just diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. It's not life threatening or anything major, but it's a downer to have that start off my spring break. So as I post this at…10 o'clock at night; share with me in the homemade spaghetti I made as I post this for comfort.**

 **Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you so much for your reviews. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **angel897, Becka3490, Dhalmi93, and pourquoibella** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 **Lesliezen** – _Dwalin is not afraid to ask the tough questions ;)_

 **inperfection** _– I think Thorin would have been torn between laughter and protecting her honor…I don't even know what his expression would have been. It's a tiny bit of slow burn for pacing, but there will be more bonding after Azog and everything is on the table._

 **Jenn** _ **–**_ _I'm glad you like her and how I approached the "male" thing. I wanted to try something different. So I'm glad you like it. :)_

 **Christina Fey** – _I think I'm gonna have one more chapter between this one and Goblin Town, but there be Stone Giants ahead._

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She recently completed it and is a really good read!**

 **One of my reviewers is Lesliezin. I absolutely love her Thorin/OC story: A Shadowed Companion. All should read, it's fantastic and it's getting crazy.**

 **I want to give a shout out to JensPen (previously JMac322). She has just started the second part to her Thorin/OC story and I absolutely love it. Check out both parts. The first one is Home is Behind and the second part is The World Ahead. We correspond regularly so I'm sure she would love more conversation than just me! Go check her stuff out!**

* * *

We make it out of the valley just as the sun begins reaching over the horizon. The small rocky paths wind in and out for an hour or so before leading to flat grasslands. We rest momentarily in the safety of the rocks before planning our next move. The elves would surely know we have gone by now. I hope Tauriel didn't get into too much trouble…

I lean on a rock facing the path ahead of us, slowly devouring a biscuit Bombur gave me while we rested. It's nice to have something else in my stomach especially after I realize that the only real thing I had to eat was a strip of bacon and some cherries. I shouldn't go this long without a real meal, but at the times I had an opportunity…there were other things going on. After the biscuit is gone I decide to break into my personal stores and take out more of the dried meat I made from before we ran into the trolls. It would be gone soon and I would have to keep an eye out for rabbits along the plains before we hit the mountains. We could eat snakes as well, but if we could avoid it I would be happier for it. Snake tastes…wrong.

Beyond that, when we reach the mountains, we would have to rely on whatever flora might be nestled among the rocks for food. The worst case there might be some moss we could eat if there are any trees. I shake my head at my own silliness. Food would be fine; we have taken enough food from Rivendell to make it through the Misty Mountains. The real problem I should focus on at the moment is goblins. I know for a fact that their numbers have been growing and it would be treacherous getting through the whole ordeal without at least one encounter. With how dark the mountains have become in recent years I wouldn't be surprised if we were chased through the mountains relentlessly. I have been in the West for three years now, but I still remember my lonely crossing through the mountains and the dozens of goblins I slaughtered there.

I run a hand over my bare face, hoping to rub away some of my anxiety. Once the valley was well and truly behind us I had removed my mask. There isn't a point to wear it all the time now; the others have seen me without it already.

For once I actually find myself wishing the wizard was here. I would be able to keep the company safe from goblins, but there are other creatures in these mountains that would be easier to face if Gandalf were here. I may be powerful, but I am no Maiar of the Valar. Not to mention it would also help to have him a round now that we know the company is being hunted by orcs.

I started thinking about this once we left Rivendell. With nothing more than saturated guilt on my mind I start to consider why we were being hunted in the first place. Orc packs, while not entirely uncommon, normally came up from the south. However, those were Gundabad wargs and that meant they had come down from the north. What were they doing this far from their own camps? I can't see them just hunting us for the sake of hunting us.

I look back behind me to see Fili and Kili showing Bilbo how to make a snare for a rabbit. He looks a little morose about the whole thing, but nods his head as listens. He may be a little uptight at times, but it is clear that he realizes it's the only food source we will have at our disposal for a while yet. I watch the brothers closely as they each describe their own methods for catching them, apparently having different luck with different traps.

I'm beginning to realize just how vulnerable we are. The entire line of Durin, aside from Lady Dis in the Blue Mountains and their cousins in the Iron Hills, is here. If Fili and Kili were to parish along with Thorin on this quest there wouldn't be any others to take their place. This mission is all or nothing it would seem. I can't help thinking bitterly that at least if they had remained in the Blue Mountains they would be safe from being hunted.

Not for the first time, I wonder why Thorin allowed his nephews to come on this trip. With a dragon at the end of it they already anticipated the chance of defeat. It would be devastating blow to all those who Thorin fought for. So why would he risk it?

I know that the boys wouldn't have let him leave them behind, but it still feels wrong that he brought them. While I know they wouldn't have stayed put even if he tried, I felt like he could have tried harder. Just knowing the sons of Dis, I know better, but it just seems like Thorin should have been enough to make them stay…When did I start to perceive him like he's a force of nature?

I chuckle a little conjuring an image of Thorin as a large gust of southern wind blowing down all who are in his path. I glance further back from the group is situated and can see Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin returning. Thorin looks up at me and after meeting my eyes, gives me a quick nod.

"We are moving out. We will rest once more in the afternoon and will make camp once it gets dark. Take care of any last minute needs you have because there will be no stopping until then," says Thorin.

The others all start moving and prepare for the day's walk. I stay still to relish the last few moments of peace that I can get. Now that we are on a time limit there is no more leisurely walking. Every step is now a race against time, which is daunting to say the least. We are only mortal, we need rest and food, but time stands still for no one. For a moment, I can't help feeling like I am back at the ranger camps and we are moving out for the day…

* * *

" _How you feelin' this morning, lass?"_

 _I sit up to look at my mentor. Vohar is an older ranger with a good temperament and is very wise. He works closely with the commander of our legion, Morrigan. It wouldn't be until years later and after his death, that I discovered Morrigan to be Arathorn. It had been rumored to every greenhorn of the camps, that the line of Isildur was hidden amongst the ranger ranks. I had not cared much at the time, but apparently it was true._

" _It could have been worse," I say as I pull myself up. I don't stretch too much, afraid of causing myself more damage than relief. My ribs are still badly bruised after our run in with trolls last night, "Just sore mostly."_

 _While we travelled during the day, Ethon had discovered a place where wild blackberries grew and after spotting it, wanted to backtrack at night to take some with us. Unfortunately, he had missed all the signs that there were trolls in the area. Hardly a few weeks ago he had discovered the truth about me purely by accident. Then he had tried to cover for me when others thought to root me out. Because of this I was slowly beginning to keep him around for the enjoyment of his company rather than for the sake of keeping my secret hidden. So while I had noticed the broken trees and human remains, I still ran to keep up with him when he ran headlong after the fruit._

 _After turning a sharp corner, I was met with a large arm and hand which threw me into the nearest tree. Luckily, there had been no broken bones, but the bruises would mottle my body for weeks. Ethon had narrowly escaped the initial blow and after I had regained my senses I dealt with the threat directly and killed the two trolls. After his initial surprise, Ethon had been guilt-ridden the rest of the night. I had been happy that there was no repeat of the incident in the White Mountains. Ethon hadn't been with us at the time; and while I am grateful he didn't see what became of our fellow rangers I wish that he would at least know better._

 _When we returned to camp Vohar and Brehon, another commander of the ranks of rangers, had demanded to know what happened. I relayed the details and several men were dispatched to see if there were more trolls and if they could locate a hoard. They managed to find one, but they returned in hopes of using the advantage of daylight later. There had been two other trolls, but it would appear that they had been fighting and managed to knock each other out. Only one other ranger was injured by a flailing arm while dragging them out into the sunlight._

" _Aye," he responds. "You will be for a while. I don't know what the lad was thinkin'." He says as we walk towards the large stew pot near the tents of the senior rangers. He is shaking his head as he considers Ethon._

" _Apparently blackberries are rare this time of year," I answer. "He was quite eager to share his discovery."_

" _He would have gotten himself killed and you as well," he explains. I make a noncommittal grunt, not particularly caring of what might have happened._

" _He just needs to learn. Ethon's only been with us for a few weeks," I say. "We all had to start somewhere. This is his start."_

" _Most people don't need a near death experience to get started," he says nonchalantly. I say nothing because I have no room to judge. It took a lot of people dying to get me where I am. My silence has him looking over at me and I just shrug. We are almost at our destination when Ethon comes running up to me. His eyes are wide and he bows his head to me, assuming it's an apology so I nod in return._

" _Are you alright, Ethon?"_

 _The boy nods and a blush starts to form on his cheeks. He holds out the tin to me, "I want to say that I'm sorry about last night and it won't happen again. I want you to have these considering that you were the one who got hurt because of me."_

 _I open the tin to see it filled to the brim with fresh blackberries. For a moment I can't say anything, so surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gift, but when I look up into his hopeful brown eyes I find the words._

" _Thank you, Ethon," I smile. He smiles back at me. I think he knows that I don't hold anything against him, but I can't always be too sure with him. Vohar suddenly wraps his arms over both of our shoulders and draws us in to garner our attention._

" _After young Ethon told of how you handled that troll last night I made up my mind. I have been meaning to ask if you wanted to join my troop and remain under my mentorship." It is no secret that the two regiments would soon be separating and with Vohar turning east he would only take the most exceptional rangers and recruits. "What do you say you two?"_

" _Both of us?" asks Ethon. "Even after last night?"_

" _Well everyone has to start somewhere," chuckles the elder as he winks at me. "And you have just promised to not let it happen again. I can only come to expect better from now on. Besides I think it best if Kalar here kept an eye on you. Not as many rangers have such…patience."_

" _What do you think, Kalar?" asks Ethon excitedly._

 _I came for proper training in the wilds, where the training took place is of little consequence, but if the better fighters are heading to the other side of the Misty Mountains than it is clearly the better choice, "I accept."_

" _Me too," supplies Ethon eagerly._

" _Excellent," he says with a grin. "Eat well and finish your morning exercises, with caution young lady. I can't have you damaging yourself further before we begin. We will ride out midmorning and at the noon time meal we will separate and head for the High Pass. Be ready you two." With that the old man walks on to the food line and leaves us to our thoughts._

" _I'm sorry," Ethon suddenly states again. "You don't have to play babysitter you know? I can take care of myself, but…the worst I've ever fought was my fath…other human men. Everything else is a little new to me."_

 _When he had first discovered my secret he had told me about how he had run away from home to avoid his drunken father after his ill mother had passed. His story and gentle heart called out to me so I told no one. Then as a show of loyalty he had lied for me to our mentor in hopes of maintaining my disguise, but I wouldn't let him. I didn't want either of us to be seen as liars. Still, in his own way, it was really sweet._

" _Then I will teach you how," I say as I extend a blackberry to him. "And we will learn to work together. Then you will be able to protect yourself." He visibly brightens at my words and accepts the blackberry tenderly._

" _I look forward to it, Kalar," he says. He is getting ready to turn and join the others, but I grab his shoulder and turn him around. He looks a little surprised, but waits patiently. Despite his ignorance and inexperience, I can easily say that Ethon is one of the sweetest people I've ever met. He deserves the whole truth._

" _Kalar was my father's name. I use it in place of my real one," I explain. The wide wonder in his eyes causes my cheeks to heat up a little. Why does it feel like I'm naked before him when I'm just telling him my name? "My name is Tahna."_

" _Tahna," he whispers with a grin on his face. A moment passes where I wait for him to say something. "I appreciate you telling me that, but I hope you don't mind that I'm still gonna call you Kalar."_

" _Why?" I ask mildly curious. I thought that he would like to use it. In all honesty I want someone to call me that just because it's nice to hear my real name every once in a while._

" _I confess that I'm a little selfish at times and now that you told me your name, I feel pretty special. So you can bet I'm not gonna share you with anyone else," he says with a wink. The blush on my face deepens as he walks away. What did I just do?_

* * *

It is our second night out on the plains and the foothills of the Misty Mountains are just out of sight. We would reach them either tomorrow or the day after. My unease about the goblins grows as the distance between us and the mountains shrinks. There are a few signs that there have been goblins this far from the mountains; mostly forgotten arrows. I share my findings with the others and despite the negative reception of the news we cannot afford to stop. So the only feasible plan we could come up with was extra vigilance and quieter conversations as we continued forward. We have also been making due with smaller campfires, but that's not a very worrisome point.

While the group isn't entirely silent, the lack of conversation puts me a little more on edge. As I try to fall asleep for the night I think about Hadrien of all things. He would be so lively regardless of the goblins. He would have made me laugh until I brought all of the goblins down on our heads. I miss him dearly and I'm sure that Tauriel does too. It seems my guilty conscious will not let me be…

* * *

 _We stand outside the border of Mirkwood waiting for Tauriel to arrive. The sparrow Hadrien sent only days before had apparently been enough for Thranduil to send guards ahead to bar us from entering the wood. It hardly seems necessary, considering a Balrog is the only thing on this Earth that would force me beyond the tree line…maybe not even then. However, I must look eager as I search for Tauriel amongst the darkening wood._

 _I tense as I feel a hand in my hair for what seems like the hundredth time today._

" _Hadrien," I growl, "Keep your hands to yourself!" I swat at his hands. I look up at his impish grin with a faltering frown._

 _With a large smile he cheekily eyes my hair again, "I cannot help it. I have never seen your hair this long. You really should grow it out."_

" _I don't know how you elves manage to tame as much hair as you have," I snort. "However, us poor mortals have to deal with things like knots and tangles in our hair."_

" _Oh you poor, unfortunate soul," he chuckles with mirth._

" _I'm just saying it's easier to manage this way," I grumble. My eyes spot a figure stepping off the Elven Path. "She's here," I breathe._

 _We are still several yards out when Tauriel enters the daylight. Her red hair and bright green eyes gleaming in the sun's rays. Hadrien and I all, but abandon our horses, determined to close the gap between us. Tauriel also surges forward – allowing us to meet halfway. Hadrien and I wrap our arms around her as we settle our heads on her shoulders._

 _The first time we had met after the incident was awkward as I tried to give them space for their reunion, but both had seen fit to include me. Tauriel's hug had been a great surprise and an even greater comfort. I didn't think I would adjust so well to letting people touch me, but I had to. Ethon never really demanded much from me physically, but Hadrien would have driven me mad otherwise. He's just so…affectionate._

" _Savni dae idhrad," she tells us._

" _Ahm idharadh, elenen," says Hadrien as he pets her hair. We pull back from the embrace, but remain close. Tauriel gives us both a quick once over and her eyes linger on my head._

" _Thoronen, fingen galaeden," she says with a smile._

" _Mana dae daer os finen?" I grumble. I have been learning Sindarin at Hadrien's insistence shortly after leaving the Greenwood. Despite my dislike of elves, I have found the skill very useful and my lessons with Hadrien are fun._

 _A sigh escapes Hadrien's lips as he looks over at me, "Could you try not sounding angry when you use Sindarin?" A giggle escapes Tauriel at my chastisement. "You sound so disgruntled every time we speak that sometimes I think I am teaching a dwarf."_

" _A true dwarf would hardly aspire to learn such a flowery language," I say snarkily._

" _Some of them did once," he says with a thoughtful shrug. "May have been just to know what "the enemy" was saying, but they did." The face he made when he said the enemy got a chuckle out of both Tauriel and I._

" _The elven language is beautiful and very romantic according to most," says Tauriel. "I'm certain that knowing it would manage to impress any suitor."_

" _If a talent in tongues is all it takes to impress, I fear that I will need harsher criteria," I snort. When I look over and see the mischievous look on Hadrien's face I suddenly realize what he might have seen in my words. He opens his mouth, clearly prepared to tease me to an early grave, but I cut him off._

" _Not a word!" I shout. He is still smiling and looks back at Tauriel instead. It only takes me a moment to realize why he even looked at her…_

" _Of course tongues are impressive, but the true criterion is in the skill of your hands," says Tauriel cheekily. With a groan I lower my head and shake it in mock disappointment. I mostly do it to hide my blush from the obvious innuendo. It is ironic that the first elves I meet that I actually like and care about have absolutely no sense of propriety. Someone must be laughing up on high…_

" _Well executed, Tauriel," her father says with pride. "Not very subtle, but not obvious either. Anyone who accidentally overheard would have blushed." He looks over at the stone faced elves within hearing range by the entrance to the Elven Path. They are clearly unmoved by Tauriel's comment. "Ignore them. They have no sense of humor."_

" _Maybe they just don't like your sense of humor," I comment. He rounds on me, his face defines indignant._

" _I am hilarious," he asserts. "The rest of my kind is just unfortunate enough to be born without a humorous bone in their body."_

" _The same could be said for Thoronenc," chuckles Tauriel. I give her a sharp glance, but I have to concede. Humor isn't one of my stronger traits. Perhaps every once in a while I can get a good one, but with Hadrien and Tauriel around I keep finding myself out done. I rarely try any more._

" _Oh woe is me," I huff. She smiles back brightly. The warmth in her face fills my heart and I almost feel content. Knowing we would be visiting for a few days makes me…happy. It has been so long since I felt like this. Hadrien has added an element of joy to my life, but now with all three of us together like this…it almost feels like being home._

 _Suddenly, Hadrien's arms are thrown over our shoulders as he pulls us close. "Let's go set up camp and leave these humorless peacocks to their preening." This comment unleashed a mirthful snort from me. "If they want to remain the frigid guard dogs they have been trained to be, we will take our fun elsewhere."_

 _We left Mirkwood behind us as we rode off. Tauriel and I end up sharing the mare I had at the time. Since there is no rush anywhere right now we allow our horses to keep a rather slow pace. In fact, it is slow enough that Tauriel manages to rest her head on my shoulder. If ever there had been a moment of peace where I had felt nearly whole after my parent's death, it was then._

* * *

Despite reaching the foothills around midday, we do not enter just yet. Thorin and Dwalin agree that we should try to collect what we can before going on. Our small camp is once more sheltered by the rocks, but we don't rely on it like a shield. If anything we are more wary of that than open plains before us. At least in that direction we can see when we are attacked. The rocks have the capability of hiding our enemies should they appear, but for now at least we have somewhere to run regardless of where the attack comes from.

Bombur and Bofur work on the last stew we will be able to have for a while. I have no doubt that Thorin will have us sleeping on the path along the rocks and regardless of the kindling Gloin is collecting there won't likely be enough to have a cooking fire every night. There might be enough just to keep a low burn on the campfire for whoever is on watch until we can find more wood in the stone hills.

Bifur, Fili, and Kili are doing their best with finding the last bits of meat we will find for a while amongst the plains. The only meat we could try to collect in the mountains would be off of larger predators, like mountain lions. It makes me worry slightly that I can't physically see my friends, but I know they're out there and close enough to reach if trouble should find us. Oin is with Dori and Ori, looking for more last minute additions to the herb stores.

Nori is up in a tree, keeping a look out for any trouble. Both Balin and Bilbo have taken advantage of Thorin's generosity to stop early by sleeping. Balin had still been a little worse for wear when we left Rivendell so we happily gave him the advantage of an opportunity to rest. Bilbo has also been a little worn as well so I offered him the chance to rest. I'm not sure if Thorin would agree with my decision, but I don't care too much. The company has everything under control and who would say no to rest in a moment a peace in daylight like this?

I feel a little bad for Bilbo. The pace has been grueling as of late, but this time there is no pony to carry him. Even if we did we would have more problems than just feeding and watering them; especially if the goblins decide to make an appearance. He looks peaceful as he sleeps and that is enough for now. Luckily, though it seems like most of the company is far more accepting of him after the troll incident. I may have been the one to slay the trolls, but Bilbo started to buy time before I attacked. The Ur family has been exceptionally welcoming and Ori no longer holds back any questions he may have for the hobbit. Fili and Kili had been welcoming to begin with, but now they would throw both Bilbo and I into their little huddles regularly.

Dwalin and Thorin are taking to their weapons with whetstones and speaking in Khazdul. I am close to falling asleep myself, lying down on my bed roll. The sunlight warms me and the continuous sounds of the whetstone brushing metal lulls me. As time passes it becomes harder to keep my senses heightened. That's probably why I can say I am surprised when Fili and Kili came tumbling out of the brush and land on top of me. My first instinct is to wrap my arms around their necks, but when I do it only causes them to struggle harder. I'm worried that their flailing limbs will hit one of the others; so to allow Bilbo and Balin a little more time to rest, I let them go. Once free they shake off my attack looking not the least bit put out. I lay back down and they take up kneeling positions on either side of my bed roll to stare down at me.

"What do you want?" I ask sleepily.

"We found some mushrooms," starts Kili.

"They must be interesting indeed. Considering you went to go get rabbits," I say sarcastically. I emit a yawn before continuing, "Where's Bif?"

In answer to my question the dwarf emerges from the forest carrying half a dozen rabbits. It would seem the hunting had been a great success. He gives a nod indicating he must have heard me. I give him a half hearted wave notice my little audience around me will not let me rest.

"Can you tell us what they are?" asks Kili eagerly.

"Why don't you wait until Oin gets back? The answers he'll give you may be even more accurate than mine," I groan. They nestle even closer.

"But if they are good we can put them in the stew now," says Fili maturely. "Come on, Kalar. You know adding a little flavor to the dish wouldn't hurt anyone. Not to mention Bilbo would probably love you forever if you did."

"However, it would help if we knew these aren't going to poison us," adds Kili.

With a sigh I open my hand and let Kili drop a mushroom into it. I hold it over my face and examine it thoroughly. The brown top coloring of the spores, white flesh, and the relative size of the thing has me leads me to believe it's a cloaked shroom. The number of pines in the area and the season lead me to this conclusion as well.

"This is a Cloaked Mushroom; this will go well with the soup if you have any more of that exact kind. Be careful if you see any that are slightly different, ask me. Some of those species have the tendency to make digestion difficult." Kili gives an enthusiastic nod and takes his pile of mushrooms to Bombur. Fili steps up with a small pile of his own.

"And this one?" asks Fili.

He hands me a white puff ball type mushroom with no stem and a very large cap. I know that there are two like this; one being safe the other not. The problem is that I can't tell them apart and I don't know what season they grow in. Better safe than sorry.

"I think that one's poisonous. Better get rid of it," I say. Fili turns to bury the bad mushrooms so that no one will get a hold of them. The warm sunlight feels good on my skin and I can feel myself stretching out like a cat. Kili returns first and settles down next to me. He lies down against the hard earth and settles his hands behind his head.

"Tell us more," says Kili. "About what happened after the fall of Imelkane."

I look him in the eyes and consider his request. I don't think I have the heart or strength to tell him what happened after my father and I entered those mountains. The suffering we endured in the Halls of Gundabad, surrounded by orcs day in and day out. The way my mother died…the way my father died…

"Some of my tale is too dark for a day as bright as this," I tell him cautiously. "However, I could tell you about my remaining family, my time with the rangers, anything after…What would you like to hear?"

"Why did you leave the rangers?" asks Fili who rests on his side opposite Kili. His hand is props his head up so he can look down at me slightly. I can hear the rhythmic moves of the whetstone have slowed and the hushed conversation among the Ur family has mostly ceased.

"I didn't leave. I was banished," I respond nonchalantly.

"Banished?!" asks Kili. The surprise on his face mirrors his brothers. "Why?!"

I groan a little and regret having said 'anything after'. I sigh, "We had been hunting a large pack of orcs along the eastern border of Mirkwood. We managed to corner them, but to our surprise they took to the wood. Most were too afraid to enter. However, a few of us were too caught up in the chase and we entered to collect our quarry."

I pause a moment, shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of the brothers, "There were about five us. Most of them turned back after the first few yards, but Ethon and I kept going."

"Ethon?" inquires Fili.

"A suitor?" whispers Kili with a teasing grin. Yes, actually…

"Just a friend," I answer.

"In a way?" asks Kili with wiggling brows.

"We were partners in all of our tasks as rangers. He was always by my side," I say. "And while I think of him fondly I couldn't stay. My banishment made it hard to maintain our friendship."

"If he followed you everywhere, why wasn't he with you when we found you?" asks Fili.

"His training wasn't complete and mine was. I begged him to remain with them until he did and it was only at my insistence that he stayed. It's likely his training is complete by now, but with how often I move he likely can't find me."

"Do you want him to find you?" asks Fili with a sad look in his eye. I am a little confused at Fili's sad tone. I just let it roll off my shoulders.

"Maybe one day," I smile. "Having all of you reminds me just how welcome company can be on the road and how much I miss my other friends." Fili looks away. His face is contorted as if he is angry.

"Keep going," says Kili anxiously. "You and Ethon were still tracking the orcs."

"We actually lost each other after a few minutes in. I kept charging forward while Ethon had stopped to look for me. According to him, our commander himself came and got him, but he wanted to come after me. After an hour or so, I managed to catch up with the orcs. Cocky bastards thought that they could walk freely through the woods after we stopped at the tree line. I got them all, but when all was said and done I realized I was lost," I shiver a little at the memory.

"Like an ignorant child I thought I could just walk straight back the way I came. So I started walking. It went on for hours and after a while the air became so heavy with dark magic that I felt like I was drowning. I couldn't think straight and everything looked different from when I had entered. Nothing really interesting happened for a couple days; I was just dehydrated and starving in the woods, terrified of everything that moved. However, the magic in the air gave me visions of the death of my parents and my fellow rangers calling out to me. It was a living hell for me and while I still would rather walk through the Black Gates I'm better prepared now. I can face those dangers with you."

I can see the smiles on the brother's faces at my words. The same vision that filled my mind the night we left Rivendell has remained a constant companion when I wonder if I should leave. I would stay, I would protect them. I have to.

"So the rangers cast you out for disobeying orders? Or was it because they thought you were mad?" asks Dwalin. He's still leaning over his axes with a whetstone in hand, but his eyes are on me.

"No," I answer. "I was banished for murder." Again everyone hangs in suspense especially the two Ri brothers who have reemerged with Oin. Before anyone can say anything I jump to my own defense. "On my last day in the woods an elvish patrol watched me from a distance. They thought I was dangerous so they thought it best to wait until I collapsed from exhaustion so they could return me to my troop. Unfortunately, one of the elves had brought his daughter along."

"When she saw me stumbling around in the woods she felt bad for me, she didn't want me to suffer. So when the patrol went after a nest of giant spiders she approached me. She tried to talk to me, but when I saw her my mind was such a mess. I perceived everything as a threat. In my mind's eye she looked like an orc even though there was nothing further from the truth. So when she came within an arm's length…I ran her through."

I take a deep breath, "I had expected black blood to stain my blade so I was only startled out of my trance when I saw red. Once I realized what I had done…it was too late. I was…collected by the patrol and brought before the Elvenking." I purposefully skirt around some of the details, worried that Thorin would use them as an excuse to keep me from going with them. "After the Elvenking released me to my troop I was told that I would only be allowed to stay to complete my training before I would be expulsed. And that's exactly what happened."

I sit up, taking note that everyone has returned to camp and must have heard the end of my story. I look over at Balin who is now awake and watching me with a sad look in his eyes. I wouldn't blame him if it turned out to be disappointment.

"You asked me, Balin, about the state of the wood," I say. "I gave you my answer and I stand by it. It's not good, but I won't let that happen again; my mask will make sure of that." I then shift my gaze to Thorin who is staring back intensely. "That's why I am going with you. To make sure the rest of you stay safe; from both the woods and each other."

* * *

 **(My Horrible) Translations:**

Thoronenc = our eagle.*

Savni dae idhrad. = I have missed you both so much.

Ahm idharadh, elenen = We have missed you too, my star.

Thoronen, fingen galaeden = my eagle, you have grown out your hair.

Mana dae daer os finen? = What is so great about my hair?

*I about died when I saw the elvish word for eagle was _Thoron_. It's way too close to Thorin for me to not use it.

 **Next time: Couple more flash backs and Thorin POV…maybe some Stone Giants**

 **Also just so you know I love and appreciate everyone who looks through my work. It brings me a lot of happiness to talk about it, especially when those closest to me don't really care about it. It's fine - I get it, not everyone is into it, but thank you guys again for being here and making my day and work worth it. See you in two weeks…**


	20. Close to the Heart

**Hey everyone. I know I said two weeks, but guess what…My capstone project is done! Four years of hard work put to the test and I think I did pretty well. So while I agree that I shouldn't have waited this long to update, I'm afraid the time was well spent finishing studies.**

 **However, this part is a little longer for your reading pleasure! Hopefully you will enjoy.**

 **Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you so much for your reviews. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **angel897 and lifes-death-bed** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 **chichi41 –** _I'm glad you like the flashbacks. Got a particular favorite?_

 **Jhendoe –** _Sorry about that complications in RL, but I'm glad you like the subtlety. I really believe in the idea that you have to like someone before you love them and Thorin..can be a little rough in that department sometimes._

 **ro781727** – _I know! I promised that I would go back and fix it and I will, just roll with me for a little bit longer. It shouldn't show up anymore, but I will have it fixed with proper explanation before they reach Beorn's house. If I don't – feel free to hit me with Mjolnir._

 **inperfection** _– I'm glad you liked Tauriel's father. This is the last we are going to see of him for the most part so I hope you like this chapter._

 **writingNOOB** _ **–**_ _Yep!_

 **QueefCream** – _I wouldn't do that to you. I do, however, have plans…MUWAHAHA!_

 **Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She recently completed it and is a really good read!**

 **One of my reviewers is Lesliezin. I absolutely love her Thorin/OC story: A Shadowed Companion. All should read, it's fantastic and it's getting crazy.**

 **I want to give a shout out to JensPen (previously JMac322). She has just started the second part to her Thorin/OC story and I absolutely love it. Check out both parts. The first one is Home is Behind and the second part is The World Ahead. We correspond regularly so I'm sure she would love more conversation than just me! Go check her stuff out!**

* * *

Thorin looks over the stretch of path before them from a flattop they had reached as he waits for his kin to catch up. Bifur, Bofur, and Dwalin are ahead cautiously watching for goblins. Thorin stops to look back to track the progress of the others behind them. The dwarves stomp up the incline in a single file line and give a nod of acknowledgement as they pass him by. Some are slightly out of breath, but some breathe deeply.

He knows the hobbit will be winded when he emerges amongst the pool of dwarves. He is unaccustomed to the higher elevation and despite their sturdy build; his feet would still be tender against the unyielding mountain surface. Thorin could begrudgingly admit that the hobbit is managing to keep up with them at least. When the curly haired halfling finally did appear he is immediately followed by the towering stature of the ranger.

Thorin watches Tahna closely as she shifts her attention between pushing the hobbit along and assisting Balin, directly behind her. Unfortunately, Balin's age has also made him susceptible to the thin air in the mountain slopes. This had also been apparent when they had first arrived in Rivendell after being chased by orcs, but everyone would rather ignore that fact. Nothing is more insulting or wounding to a dwarf's pride than saying they were incapable. However, Tahna seems to have found a way to keep an eye on the wizened dwarrow without hinting at his need for help or damaging his pride. She keeps herself between them exaggerating her steps, appearing to be looking for the most suitable ground or looking back as if to look for Fili and Kili. Then when Balin manages to catch his breath she will pick back up the pace as if seeming to have not realized she had fallen behind and would go to check on the hobbit.

The peculiar thing is that Master Baggins seems to be doing the same thing to her, though maybe it could be his odd hobbit tendencies. He would look behind to see the ranger falling behind to keep Balin from falling behind. So after a brief while when he would get ahead of the pair he would stop to catch his breath. Once Tahna noticed she would try to catch up and make sure he was alright and the hobbit would start up again. They made an odd little group amongst the line of dwarrow, but it made Thorin a little proud as well. The entire company could be considered odd as well, each with their own background and motivations, but they are all working together now to get through these mountains. Fili and Kili and were now closely working with Oin and Dori in a similar manner to Tahna and Balin. The elder warriors didn't have nearly as much need as Balin, but the boys were doing their best to follow Tahna's example.

The pair watch over her closely, day and night. Even as she approaches the flattop now, from some feet behind her Fili looks over to make note of her head above the rest of the dwarves before continuing behind Oin. At night it's easy to find her nestled between the boys as if they could shield her from the rest of the world. With goblins now freely roaming the mountains the boys have taken the initiative and become much less rambunctious. At times Thorin misses their light-hearted nature that has been their signature upon the world from the time they could walk. He didn't speak openly about such things often, but he is proud of his sister's sons and could not have chosen more wonderful boys to be his heirs.

In Thorin's peripheral he notices the passing halfling who looks at the slight decline in the path with something akin to joy. However, the dwarf lord's eyes quickly shift to the ranger behind the short man. He looks up at her purposefully and sure enough she meets his gaze. When they make eye contact Thorin can feel both lightness in his heart and unease in his belly. He is still unsure of let her continuing further with them on this quest, especially now that he is aware of what occurred in the Greenwood. However, Thorin cannot seem to stop the pride or admiration he felt for her when she vowed to continue on for them, with them, regardless of what had befallen her in Thranduil's Realm. It brought a mix of emotions that even Thorin doesn't completely understand.

Several heavy gazes have been shared between them since they entered the mountains. Not that there was necessarily tension in them, but there is a…connection. With Thorin's lingering doubt about the ranger confirmed there is nothing between them. He no longer has a reason t be hesitant around her. Thorin knew that she knew he knew. There is something special in that unique knowledge and perhaps she felt it too.

As just the same whenever their eyes met and held she would smile at him. They would maintain eye contact for as long as possible before it would have to be broken off. And just as always he couldn't help noticing the way the scar in the corner of her mouth would curve enticingly. This moment is no different and like every time before it, it leaves him feeling physically lighter.

Once the contact breaks his eyes shift to Balin, whom he shares a nod with. However, he can't shake the lightness off so he does his best to ignore it and continue on with the others. That doesn't stop him from every now and again looking up past Balin to see the ranger's long legs carrying her forward along the path.

* * *

" _This is why I never listen to you," I snap as I continue to cut away at my hair. My scalp still aches from where the orc had managed to get a good grip on my hair._

 _We are inside a small camp by Osgiliath, which was until recently under siege by a rouge group of orcs. The small army of orcs had nearly laid waste to Ecthelion's men stationed there, but Hadrien and I had arrived in time to aid them. Unfortunately, I had let my powers run away with me after one orc had grabbed my scalp and I ended up annihilating most of their forces. It is only chance that Hadrien had gotten to the orc before it killed me. Now with the threat gone several men are heading back to Minis Tirith to exchange the guard and to report to their Steward._

 _Initially, I just wanted to move on, but I needed their resources to negate the effects of my magic. I am well aware of how unstable my magic is even with years of training. It has the tendency to lash out, but my protective personality clashes with it and tends to hurt me more than anyone else. In the ranger camps, I had access to everything I needed, but now that we have left them behind I try to avoid using it altogether._

 _After healing the damaged tissues in my arm I ignore Hadrien's advice about letting my hair grow out and cut it immediately. Hadrien only glances up at me once, his gaze quickly returning to the pair of hilts resting in his hands. He keeps flipping them over continuously and running his fingers along the metal and stone delicately. His face is a little pale and his eyes wide, express his awe. It makes me a little anxious, not that he doesn't wear his emotions on his sleeve, but the expression he wears is entirely uncharacteristic. We have been together so long that I forget this is the first time he has seen me use my magic._

 _The Gondorian soldiers while wary of us are exceptionally grateful that I intervened and used my magic. In the end, it had saved lives and therefore made it well worth the use. The captain of the regiment asked to escort us to the White City to meet the young Steward so that we may be rewarded for our deeds. I want to just move on to the Rohanian boarders where Azog had supposedly been seen in the past few months, but Hadrien is set on having a nice dinner for once and accepted the proposal. I know time is of the essence when it comes to tracking Azog, but when Hadrien is determined about something he is about as moveable as a dead Oliphaunt._

 _We are set to move out within the hour. It gave me plenty of time to preemptively stop the damage from using my magic and to cut my hair; though the latter is more to irritate the elf who wants his nice dinner. It's not my fault that I get bored waiting for the food to cook…or that it burns so easily. It's the reason I make so much dried meat, it saves me from burning it. Years later I will have eaten enough of my own charcoal dinners that it no longer bothers me and every good meal I receive is appreciated greatly._

" _You had the power to burn the Greenwood to the ground," he murmurs over the hilts. "You could have turned our home into ashes if you so wished."_

" _Not exactly," I respond. "Using that kind of magic requires a clear mind. The dark magic in the forest robbed me of that. Both of them were useless – the forest was very safe from me. If I could have used them though, I would have likely been out of Thranduil's realm without any…accidents."_

" _And after," he pushes, "When you were free of the forest and Thranduil threatened to execute you. We didn't take the hilts when we saw you. We thought they were for decoration and were useless. You could have easily escaped us."_

" _I was guilty of the crimes I stood accused of," I growl with the memory. "Her blood was still drying on my hands…and the price of escape would have been too high. The thought of innocent people – like you, or Tauriel, or Gliwen; its price I would never be able to pay."_

 _He looks away from the hilts and watches me and I gaze back at him. After a little while I feel my hands running through my short hair and his eyes drift towards the movement. I wince when I feel where the orc got a hold on me and in an instant Hadrien is in front of me. He places the hilts on the barrel beside me and pulls me up from the bench I had been sitting on. At first I am confused, but then he wraps me in a now familiar hug. The only difference is that he is holding me tighter, as though I might disappear. My arms naturally place themselves around his shoulders and waist. This encourages him and leans down towards my ear._

" _I know you think your journey is purely one of vengeance, that what you do makes you unworthy of anyone's sympathies or kindness," he whispers. "But you are so much more than the lost little girl you think you are. You have such compassion and conviction! All you need is some hope and courage; it will guide you to where you need to be. With your permission I would like to stand by you always, Tahna; until the end of your days."_

 _I can feel my heart warming with his words and tears rise in my eyes. It is difficult to believe the words, but it is nice to hear someone say them nonetheless. He makes me want to believe him, so I let the smile that had been growing split across my face and nod. When he does pull away he gently rubs my cheeks before his eyes fall on my hair again._

" _I suppose I will never get to see a day where you grow this out will I?" he sighs._

" _Once I have defeated Azog and his spawn I will grow it out. I won't really have as much reason to go look for trouble now will I? It will be safe for me then…when it's all over," I answer. He hums as he mulls over my answer, but abruptly pulls away and nods at nothing._

" _What?" I laugh. He ignores my question and withdraws a dagger from his belt. He brings up to his hair and without warning cuts his hair off at the leather thong that held it in a ponytail._

" _NO!" I shout before I can think anything else. I watch in complete horror as his bright red locks hit the ground. My mind has a difficult time trying to understand what it is he just did, but when I finally manage I look up at him angrily. He, on the other hand, looks nothing more than mildly surprised as he tests the new weight by shaking his head back and forth._

" _My head feels so light," he comments._

" _That's because your head is FULL OF AIR!" I shout. When I see his hand move towards the shorn locks my first instinct has me taking the dagger out of his other hand. "What did you do that for?"_

" _I wanted to try it," he says, still mesmerized by the short length. "And it's a promise. When you start growing out your hair again so too will I."_

 _Elves grow their hair out as a sign of maturity and responsibility. The older you are the longer and heavier it is. Much like the burden they bear of knowledge and memory. It's not forbidden to cut one's hair among the elves, but it is strange and not something meant to be taken lightly. It's a sign of new life amongst their people. So while hair doesn't have nearly as much meaning to them as dwarves, it is still a matter of importance. To have Hadrien make me this promise…it means a lot._

" _It's feels weird," he gripes. "I think it's too…shaggy. Would you mind cleaning it up a bit for me?" His head nods toward his dagger in my hand. I look at it and then at him. I agree that the slightly long strands hanging off his head don't suit him. With nothing else to be done about it I sigh and settle him on the bench I had been resting on. I stand behind him carefully cutting his hair to better suit him, but it doesn't change the fact that I am a little sad he had cut it. Is this what it felt like for him when I did my own?_

 _He is silent throughout the whole processes; entirely yielding when I turn his head a particular way and even when I add cold water to mold the hair to a more manageable state. I keep the cut just long enough that it makes his head look full, but it's not the same._

" _There," I say as I gently rub the soft fibers between my fingers. "Tauriel's gonna kill you."_

" _I have a thousand years to let it grow back. She'll forgive me one day," he says with a smile as he feels out the new length of his hair. "Besides, I think I look rather fetching now, wouldn't you agree? Those poor girls in Gondor won't know what hit them."_

 _He would never take another after his wife, but the false arrogant egotism is meant to make me laugh. It fails at that, but it does make me smile a little bit. I wrap my arms around him again and he takes me in without another word. It is the greatest comfort I have ever received, knowing that I would have Hadrien by my side for however long I lived._

 _I knew I needed light in my life. Because of him the darkness of my thoughts never consumed me and he was my daily reminder of all things good. However, I should have known better…He would never grow his hair back out again, not because I failed to kill Azog, but because I failed to protect him. After cutting his hair…he didn't even see the end of a year._

* * *

A nudge at my shoulder stirs me and I open one eye to look up at Dori. He looks back at me gently with a small smile on his face.

"Your turn for watch, lad," he whispers.

A small growl escapes my throat as I force myself into a sitting position and try to rub the sleep from my eyes. We had found a small alcove near dusk and decided to set up camp there for the night. It is good for us to rest and it serves to hide the small fire we made. I had been sleeping on my right side which is now quite sore. Before I move closer to the fire Dori stops me and hands me the usual green tea before my watch.

"Thank you," I murmur. He nods and I expect him to leave for his brothers like he usually does, but he catches me by surprise when his hand gently wraps around my wrist once more.

"Are ya alright, lad? You have been rather tense since we entered the mountains," he says. I'm a little surprised he noticed, but since he is an overprotective brother I shouldn't be. I give him a light smile even and nod. Both my worry for the company and the lingering guilt for breaking my promise to Tauriel weigh heavily on me from time to time. I didn't realize just how much it showed though.

"I'm fine. Just a little anxious about the goblins and…about entering Mirkwood," I say.

His eyes soften a bit before gently patting my shoulder. "It's brave of ya to face that again, have no doubt, but don't forget that we are here with ya too, lad. We'll get ya back on your feet if ya fall."

A genuine smile spreads across my face as I reply, "Thank you, my friend."

He smiles back before stepping back over Kili to return to his own sleeping roll. I follow him part of the way to take up a better position near the fire, leaving Fili and Kili to guard my empty sleep roll. As I settle into place I take a quick head count, pleased to find everyone accounted for. I start on the tea, hopeful to shake the remaining cobwebs of sleep from my mind. It doesn't take long before I'm fully awake. Looking down into the cup Dori had given me I feel a little bad about taking from what must be Dori's personal stores, but I don't have the heart to tell him no. He's so very considerate about my morning temperament and he is trying to make it a little better by giving me this, so I won't will tell him no; I want him to know the effort is appreciated.

My eyes drift to Balin and I can feel relief when I see that he is breathing easily. We have been in the mountains for over a week now and Balin is finally adjusting to both the lack of air and the intense pace we set to try getting though the mountains without running into goblins. The first few days were hard on him, so I watched him throughout the day along with Master Baggins. Looking over at the Child of the West, I can see that he too is breathing evenly, but I worry about him still. When we walk it's not uncommon for me to find him breathing deep and trying to reclaim some of his lost breath. However, when I got close he would try to play it off and would continue forward. I hope that he isn't pushing himself to hard, just because dwarves and rangers could do it and acclimatize quicker didn't mean he had to hurt himself trying to keep up with the rest of us. Not to mention the meager meals we have been eating; I hope that he has been getting enough to eat. While the dwarves may not know that hobbits ate a lot, I heard from several fellow rangers that hobbits had seven meals a day, maybe one less. Bilbo hasn't said much about it after our earlier days together, but I still worry. Perhaps I can slip him a piece of my rations…

I watch him and his matted curls as he rolls over in his sleep roll, trying to find a more comfortable position in his sleep roll, which barely provides enough protection from the rough and hard surface of the stone. A small sad smile finds its way on my face as I sympathize with the little hobbit. I rub my right arm which still temporarily bears the mark of a stone that managed to make its way into my bed roll. Hopefully he can get some sleep before the sun started to stain the sky. It is endearing that he is trying and I can see that the others are coming to the same realization that this hobbit is facing dangers and enduring hardships that he doesn't really need to endure, but he is doing it for them; for their people. It makes me a little ashamed of myself if I'm honest. I started this journey out of convenience; they were going the same way as me. Now all I can think about is getting them there safe before I can continue on my own quest. Bilbo Baggins is certainly a brave man and has a heart bigger than his tiny body should be able to hold.

Luckily there have been no goblins yet. Even as the thought passes my mind I quietly remove Locelnehtar from it's sheathe to see if there was a blue glow about it. Thankfully, it only manages to capture the flickering light of the fire's flames and I return it to its leather confines. As I resume the drinking of the tea, movement catches out of the corner of my eye. It's Thorin's boot as he adjusts his position in his sleep. I naturally allow my eyes to travel upward, following the trail from his leg and up his torso to his sleeping face. A smile forms on my face when even his sleeping face manages to appear just as stern as it does when he is awake. If it weren't for the even breathing I would surely think that he is awake and just pretending to be asleep.

His back is to a side of the alcove, his arms grasping Orcrist tightly in case of an attack. His dark hair surrounds his face like a dark halo and his face is bathed in the firelight. I take note of the more silver strands to be found there and they stand as a testament to the years he has spent on this earth. The Sacking of Erebor, the Dwarf-Orc Wars, and establishing a dwarf kingdom in the Blue Mountains were pinnacle moments in Thorin's life and I hadn't been alive for a single one of them. I'm barely half the age of his nephews, but at the same time the paths our lives had taken makes us seem even older then we are and in some way that gave us a sort of kinship. Now with the addition of his knowledge about who I am…it has become even stronger still.

I glance up at the sky as the smell of fresh rain is hinted on the breeze. I groan lightly. The last thing we need is rain in the mountains. The trails hadn't been perilous for the most part, but it would most assuredly get worse. Add water and we would be asking for trouble. The only bright side would be that goblins wouldn't take those kinds of risks. However, I am more than sure that things could be a lot worse.

When the sky does begin to lighten I can see the slightly overcast sky. We would definitely need to move if we were going to find cover from what would inevitably be a stormy night. I get up from my position and gently grasp Thorin's arm. The response is immediate, one hand leaving Orcrist to grasp mine tightly. I ignore the need to wince and don't move. When his brilliant blue eyes land on me, the grip softens and releases.

"Apologies," he grumbles.

I give him a nod, "We need to move. There is rain on the horizon and we need to move while we still have the light. Trying to maneuver the narrow pathways in the dark is dangerous; add water and it's even worse. Another alcove like this may fill with water. We need to find a spot with protection from the worst of it and wait it out, but we need to move on."

As my words register, he sits up and stands. I can hear the sound of air passing through his nostrils as he takes in the air. He gives me a nod and moves to wake Dwalin and his nephews. With one last glance at the raven locks draping his back I move to get Bilbo up.

* * *

I wish I had been wrong. The rain came down light throughout most of the day, but as the sunlight faded behind the mountains and the clouds the rain came down harder. Most of my clothes are soaked, but I do my best to ignore that. The worst isn't even the rain, but the wind because it sends the rain to my skin like a hornet's sting. Our slow pace, while reasonably cautious, provided the stinging more time to pierce my flesh. If ever I had wanted to be born a dwarf it would be now. I would take beard and all just to make this stinging stop. We are lined up single file along the side of the mountain. We cling to the solid side of the trail to try and stop from falling off. Though there is a moment where Bilbo nearly took a tumble and thankfully Dwalin had been right there to catch him. Thorin continues, the entire exchange, unnoticed.

"We must find shelter," he says. He may have shouted, but over the rain, the wind, and the thunder, I could barely hear him. However, I can hear Dwalin, who is much closer.

"Look out!"

I follow his eyes to a see a large boulder, outlined in the light of the lightning, hurtling towards us. Those of us more light on our feet are suddenly clinging to the mountain side while we try to avoid being hit by any debris raining down on us from the shattering boulder. I can hear my heart beat picking up and the blood roaring in my ears.

Balin, who is just ahead of Kili, shouts, "This is no thunder storm. This is a Thunder Battle. Look!"

Looking up I can see it now. A large being made of the same stone of the mountains, rips off a large chunk of rock. Clearly it is meant to be a projectile, but at what I don't know. If it wanted us dead it would have just squashed us now. From behind me I can hear Bofur.

"Well bless me! The legends are true!" With that the large giant throws the rock over us, back the way we came, but Bofur is still too awestruck, "Giants! Stone Giants!"

Thorin shouts something back, but I cannot hear as I drag Bofur back into the relative safety of the ledge. Apparently, this pushes Bilbo back into Dwalin, but I have a hard time caring as the debris comes down harder. One piece comes down so hard it manages to hit my jaw like a punch. As I turn my head away I can feel a tremble passing through my legs. Then there is a massive shift in the stone beneath our feet. If I didn't know better I would have thought it an avalanche, but with our luck in this situation…I do know better.

I look up to see the head of the thing we are standing on as it tries to stand. I see Fili try to grab Kili with his hand outstretched and nearly falls over into the crevice forming between them. I immediately stick my hand out to catch Fili by the belt and pull him back and prevent him from falling. Kili watches with fear in his eyes as we are separated.

"Everyone hold on!" I shout. We grabbed a hold of one another to steady ourselves and made a joint effort to brace ourselves against the leg of the giant we are stuck on. Once it stood it is head-butted and falls back to where it had been resting. Looking up at the other leg I can't see the rest of the company, but I could hope they are alright. As the giant regained its footing it threw a punch at the other rock giant that had thrown the projectiles earlier. It went down with the first hit, but it doesn't see the other one that shows up behind it.

"Fuck the Makers, every last one of them," I murmur as I watch the head of the giant we are standing on suddenly get its head ripped off. I could feel the sickening swing of gravity as we are swung around. For a moment we pass by the others and I could see them along the trail. Thorin is yelling something, but I can't hear him. Suddenly, we are past them, hurtling into the side of the mountain, the trail would be right below us. One glance at Fili and I remember the emptiness that had filled me when Hadrien died; the emptiness that came with losing someone dear. So being unwilling to face that again, I grab his and Bofur's arms and I scream.

"JUMP!"

* * *

" _I don't think a pretty rock is going to help you any. Tauriel is still sore about the whole hair ordeal," I tell Hadrien as we ride for Mirkwood._

" _Shows what you know," he replies sorely. "Moonstones are precious to elves. They are signs of protection and promise of safe return."_

" _I thought only dwarves liked shiny rocks," I tease._

" _Humans and elves aren't entirely immune to the draw of sparkling things, I'll have you know," he states. "It's not my fault your…weird."_

" _Oh! If that is not the pot calling the kettle black I do not know what is," I laugh. Since Tauriel's tirade at the sight of her father's hair I have been using his insecurities for my teasing for a while now. It is rare to find him so unsure of himself, but I make sure that there is no real bit to my words._

" _Just you wait. A day will come when-"_

 _He stops abruptly and when he doesn't make to complete his sentence I turn my horse around. I don't bother asking what's wrong; whatever his elf eyes see in the distance makes him rigid and tense. That's enough to put me on high alert. Even the horse below him can sense the elf's tension despite that his rider's weight is near nonexistent. His hand is moving ever slowly towards his sword. I grab mine and try to see what he sees among the plains, but my eyes aren't good enough._

" _What do you see?"_

" _An orc pack. An abnormally large one." He dismounts._

" _How many?" I follow his lead._

" _About fifty, but there are only fifteen in the party approaching us." He steps away from the horses, allowing them to run away._

" _A scouting party? What are they looking for?" I draw my sword._

" _I don't know. The scouts will be on us soon and the rest will surely follow. Are you ready?" He removes his dual blades from his back and looks over at me._

 _In one hand I have my sword and in my other, my shield. I look at him and nod my confirmation. He stands to my left, swords raised and we wait for the inevitable. If Hadrien didn't turn us around the moment he spotted them then that means there is no way to out run them. We would have to stand and fight. It doesn't take too long before I can see the dark coat of a warg against the lighter grasses of the plains. The beast notices us immediately and let out yowl that sent ice down my back and put fire in my blood. Memories of Gundabad flash behind my eyes and I have to force them back. Suddenly more of the dark creatures surge from over the hills, their speed turning them from black dots to blobs in seconds. In those seconds, I clear my mind from all distractions and let my instinct take hold…Then her voice finds its place in my mind like it had during my training._

 _ **We are at the disadvantage for numbers, but I doubt they will be expecting us.**_

 _I slip into a cool shell of detachment and hold the stone hilt in my hand behind the shield. I am ready. The first to approach is a riderless warg. Hadrien dove low while the warg went for me first. He cut the hamstrings with his blade and I maneuver out of the way, but not before adding a fatal cut to the beast's throat._

 _ **It will take a few moments for the beast to die. Don't back up!**_

 _The next two have riders. Hadrien uses one blade to block the opponent's sword while the second lands a cut on the warg's face. With a running start I knock the rider off with my shield and puncture the warg's lung with my blade. With a low whimper the beast goes down, but its rider springs back up. It brings a spiked mace down on my shield, which I throw back and blindly try to swipe at its side. Unfortunately, his armor is thick and only graze him. He tries coming at me again, this time aiming for my ribs rather than my head. I dodge the swing entirely and manage to cut his throat open with an upward stroke. Once my opponent is down I look over at Hadrien to see him put down the orc that had charged him. He send a nod my way to know that he is alright._

 _ **He doesn't matter! Focus!**_

 _I blatantly ignore her words. There is no point more important than the fact that we both need to get out of this alive._

 _ **You don't need him! He's just dead weight! Stay alert!**_

 _Sooner than we expected the rest of the scouting party is on us. The grassland acting as unforgiving terrain. We are only lucky that we could use the other corpses of their fallen comrades for vertical support. Over time our movements became heavier with exhaustion and we ended up dragging our enemies away from each other. Sloppy movements means we would endanger one another so we separated. That is why when the fight is over it comes as no surprise that we are yards apart from one another. As we regain our breath we look over our carnage, making sure none survived. When I look up and meet Hadrien's eye he gives me a smile._

" _I think you finally managed to beat me, Thoronen," he states flippantly. A smile grows on my face as I shake my head. After seeing my magic blades in action Hadrien has been trying to instigate a little competition to see who could kill more orcs. I clearly have the advantage, but I let Hadrien have the last word. He starts back towards me. "I don't think the others are close just now, if we can we should find our horses and go in the opposite direction."_

 _I put away the stone hilt and the voice disappears with it. "Did none of them alert the others?_

" _I saw the one with the warning horn. It was the first one I took out," he confirms. He looks behind me and points, my eyes following his finger. "The horses are that way a bit. If we stay low and stealthy we can…"_

" _If we are stealthy we can do what?" I ask as I turn to look at him. My heart freezes and time slows. Hadrien's eyes are wide, but unseeing. He tries to speak, but as his lips part, red blood seeps out._

" _No," I whimper. "NO!" I yell as I catch him in my arms. I can now feel the arrow sticking out of his back as I hold him. An archer, several yards out, cheers for his victory and summons the orcs that had not known we were there. Even as they approach nothing could take me from Hadrien. His hand clutches mine tightly as I lower us both to the ground. He is spluttering through his own blood, trying to say something. I couldn't do anything I realize in complete horror. There is nothing I could do to stop this. I put pressure on the wound, trying to stem it's flow, but it's futile. One moment he is here and then gone the next. I could hear the ringing in my ears as I look back into his unfocused eyes. I stare down at him, trying to grasp the fact that my best friend…my second father, has just passed on._

 _I struggle to hold my world together. I only manage to pin my world down to a single hard lump caught in my throat. Tears flow steadily down my face though I am not aware of them. I am staring at the glassy, brown eyes as the wargs and orcs have surrounded me. I am only drawn away when something grabs my hair and pulls me away._

 _When I make eye contact with my attacker I meet golden eyes. They glare back at me menacingly amidst a mantel of bones. This is Gijak, one of the twin spawn my mother was forced to bring into this world. His jagged and misshapen teeth flash at me. "Najundaunt trizgu! Brusizg fauthob za. Paushizg pau bloglab ishi vendob kranklobloab," he growls at me._

 _Despite his words, I couldn't feel the anger and hatred I built up over years against Azog and his spawn. I couldn't feel the satisfaction in finding him so I could kill him. Every fiber of my being focused on the painful lump in my throat. A build up of emotions nests there; all of my fear, sorrow, anger, hatred, and desperation. All of it bundled and lodged at one point._

 _Gijak's grip on my hair tightens as he unsheathes his sword. I would like to think I would have moved on my own and at least tried to defend myself. However, I would never truly know though. I only move when I see a nearby warg trying to take a bite of the Hadrien's body. All at once the point in my throat breaks and I grasp the iron hilt at my back. I scream as I lose the point of pain that anchored me to this world. The overwhelming emotion spills past my lips in the form of a feral shout and forces me to lose consciousness. The last thing I see is the blinding light of the flames consumed Gijak._

 _When I awake I have the momentary bliss of forget everything; where I am, what I am doing, who I am – all of it a blur for a moment. Then the overwhelming scent of burning hair and flesh seeps into my nose. I throw myself into a sitting position and pause. Hadrien's body remains untouched by the flames my blade had summoned. The green grass forming a perfect circle around us before it gave away to scorched earth. All throughout the burnt patch are bodies of wargs and orcs littering the ground. None had survived my onslaught. I twist my head to see Gijak's body still smoldering behind me. He is unrecognizable now that his face is a mix of red and pink flesh with a crisp coating of ash. The burnt grassland extended beyond him for another thirty feet. His sword is still glowing from the heat I had unleashed._

 _I had been training and waiting years for the opportunity to kill Azog and his sons. I had planned to relish my revenge, but now I am left feeling hallow instead. Looking at his body, I am instead consumed with disgusting regrets. This is a price I don't want to pay. I know that if I could I would bring Hadrien back in an instant even if it means the foul orc spawn would live again as well._

 _Thinking of him draws my attention back to his body. Looking at it causes fat tears fall down my cheeks. His face looks so peaceful, despite everything, he seems to be sleeping. Sniffling, I crawl over to him and pull his head on my lap._

" _I'm sorry! Goheno nin…"_

 _It's all I can say for minutes on end. Nothing else can come to my mind as I rock back and forth. His body cools and I manage to draw myself away. A gleaming light from his breast pocket catches my eye. It's the moonstone he had intended to give to Tauriel. A new wave of sorrow threatens to overcome me at the thought of Tauriel. I knew the pain she would feel when I return with her father's body. She would be alone in the world…just like I was before. That I would have to do this to her though, hurts more than I could begin to describe._

 _In a moment, perhaps my weakest moment, I grab that stone and put it to his chest. Looking down at his peaceful face I make him a promise. I make a promise to dead man in hopes of chaining some small piece of him to me still. So very much like a child…_

" _I have failed you…in the end for all of my powers they were worthless to save you. What's the point in having them if I can't protect you as well as destroy those who seek to take you from me? I can't ask for your forgiveness and I won't ask it of Tauriel either. I can't take this back…no matter how much I want to. So I can only promise you that I will do better. I will do what I can for Tauriel before I move on…but when I do…I promise that I will never endanger anyone in my search like I did you. I will do it alone…I can do it alone so long as everyone is safe. I will keep everyone safe, I promise."_

 _As if to seal my promise, I brought my forehead to his before closing his eyes forever._

* * *

My side slams into the stone, but my bum quickly finds solid ground. For a moment I am disoriented and off balance. However, the grumble of living dwarves mixes with the still raging storm, allowing me to relax slightly. When I look over I see Fili looking up at his uncle and I relax further. Apparently, he had been shouting for us and is relieved to find us alive. When our eyes meet he suddenly appears distressed. He says something else, but I can't make out what he is saying. Figures a thunderous voice in a thunder storm.

"Where's Bilbo? Where's the hobbit?" cries Bofur.

Thorin turns to see Bofur and Ori both go for the cliff side where Bilbo must be hanging. A stone settles in my gut. I stand and try to get closer, but I can't with other two in the way. Without hesitation Thorin jumps down to a part of the ledge with footing. A panic grips my heart and now Dwalin and I jump to keep Thorin stable while he pushes the hobbit back up to the trail. Sure enough, he slips and Dwalin and I catch him. Between the two of us we manage to bring him up and once he is secure we take a moment to catch our breath.

I refused to let go of Thorin's hand for a moment, I knew I would also check in with Bilbo a little later, but right now while I had Thorin's hand there is no way I would let go now. I held it like a life line. Fili, Bilbo, Thorin, all of them. Nearly crushed by something I couldn't stop; it is more than a little terrifying. Thorin holds my hand a little tighter and I realize I am shaking. I can hear him now as he moves closer to me.

"You're bleeding."

I believe him so there is no need to check and there is nothing we can do about it in the middle of a storm. So I just hold onto his hand a little tighter. There is a moment in his eyes where they soften to the point that I forgot the stinging rain and fear of losing them all. It almost seems to stave off the cold, but the moment is swiftly lost.

"I thought we lost our burglar," says Dwalin.

Thorin's eyes snap away from mine and towards the little hobbit, "He's been lost ever since he left home. He should have never come. He has no place amongst us."

I can't see Bilbo's face, but I can imagine the hurt look there. It's wrong to let Thorin think so lowly of someone who would see him home at the risk of his own life. However, when I try to say as such…

"T-T-Th-Th-Thor-rin," I try to argue. I didn't realize how cold I was. Now with the blood loss and the adrenaline leaving my body it would only be a matter of time before I collapse. The others look at me, surprised, and Thorin even looks a little worried. Thorin looks on ahead and sees something.

"Dwalin, with me. Oin, keep he – him warm," he commands.

He and Dwalin trudge a little further up the trail. While he's gone Fili and Kili both wrap me up in whatever furs they aren't wearing while Oin looks at my head. A head wound then? Those always bleed worse than they are, but that is still a problem when I'm this cold. For a brief moment Fili leans in while Oin looks for dry bandages.

"I failed you. Forgive me, namadith," he murmurs.

"I-I was th-thinking the s-s-same th-thing about y-you," I say. He looks a little sad, but I take the time to hold his hand and keep him close. Kili reaches out and takes my other one just when Dwalin reappears.

"There's a cave. Get your arses in here before ya freeze."

Fili and Kili move simultaneously to help me towards the cave. When we enter we pass by Thorin, but I don't have the chance to look at him. The brothers lean me against the wall where Oin appears. He tilts my head forward while he wraps the bandages around my brow. The wet of my hair seeps into bandages and I begin to fall asleep at his ministrations. I can only just make out what they are saying.

"You boys watch her close now. I can't check her for a concussion since Thorin isn't lettin' us light a torch. Keep her warm for now it's the best we can do," whispers the healer. I can feel the brothers tense around me.

"How did you know?" asks Kili.

"There is a distinct different between going deaf and catching stupidity. In all honesty I'm surprised you knew," he murmurs. "Follow my instructions and she should be fine. I have to see to the others." Then Oin leaves. Of course, when did I think I could be so sneaky…?

"Fili?" I ask. The air around me is warmer now with the extra furs and my friends around me. I can feel my exhaustion beginning weighing down on me. I haven't felt this tired in a long time. It feels strange. I try to stay awake, but I feel sleepy.

"Yes, mimzirza-azag," he murmurs. I frown, a little confused by the new Khuzdul words he expels, but it helps me to remember my question too.

"What does 'namadith' mean?" I ask. He had been calling me that since we had left Rivendell

"It means 'little sister'," he replies. I smile. I have never had brothers in my life it seems; only would-be sisters. That they considered me to be part of their family makes me feel happy.

"How do you say 'brother'?" I ask before my sensibility can catch up with my thoughts.

"Nadad," answers Kili before Fili can say anything else.

"Nadad," I say. The word feels blocky on my tongue, but nothing I couldn't get used to. I can't seem to form anymore words as my mind blanks. Then my eyes close forcefully before I fall into oblivion.

* * *

 **(My Horrible) Translations:**

Thoronen = my eagle*

Najundaunt trizgu = At last we meet

Brusizg fauthob za = I have waited for this

Paushizg pau bloglab ishi vendob kranklobloab = I will drink your blood in place of your mother's

Goheno nin – Forgive me

namadith – little sister

mimzirza-azag – little golden eyes

nadad - brother

*I about died when I saw the elvish word for eagle was _Thoron_. It's way too close to Thorin for me to not use it.

 **Next time: Goblin Town and the first look at Tahna's powers…**

 **Thank you everyone once more. I will try to be on time next time I promise!**


	21. Falling Inside the Mountain

**Hey everyone. I have meant to update sooner than this, but a lot came up. First and foremost finals are done and I now officially have my Bachelor's Degree in Biomedical Sciences! I have officially graduated from my undergraduate program! YAY! I know most of you probably don't care, but it's a pretty big deal for me.**

 **Also my family showed up from California, I hadn't seen them in two years and we got to spend a week together which is awesome. Then I had a massive fight with my roommates about whether we were gonna break lease or stay. I just got that figured out last week thank god. A month of unnecessary stress.**

 **I'm back to working 40 hours a week, but that should be my only thing now until I prep my applications for grad school in October. So the biweekly thing should be back now…Maybe. I always say that then RL happens so we'll see. Sorry it's a little short this time, but at least it's something.**

 **Anyway! Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you so much for your reviews. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **angel897, Christina Fey, PrimusNobility, Annelf, and ThePhantomismtLove** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 **xXxBloody-KitsunexXx –** _I'm glad you like the flashbacks. I want you to be able to know Tahna without having to hear her explain it to everyone. The vague stories she tells the dwarves keeps her secrets, but we see everything in her flashbacks. I just feel it fits her character. I hope you like Goblin Town and as for Mirkwood…be very afraid._

 **LauraJenkins –** _Thank you so much for your kind words. I try to make it descriptive enough to picture it without boring anyone. I'm glad to know I've succeeded J. I also thought that the dwarves should have been flushed out which I was so glad to see Jackson do in the movies and it helped me in what I hope is developing their characters. As to you being an actress: That is awesome and your words made me blush. I hope all is well and best of luck with your work. I may not have first hand experience, but I know that it has to be tough. Therefore, this part is for you! I hope you like it._

 **ro781727** – _Just so you know I am working on the Iglishmek problem as I write this. I have an idea that I hope is both clever and you will like. It's taking a little more time to get it fixed, but as I promised it will be fixed before they reach Beorn's._

 **I've decided to do a story recommendations corner for my lovely friends here on FF. Since you're here for Thorin/OC I will only recommend those unless otherwise requested. I have a few good Fili, Kili, and Dwalin ones on file. I really wish there were more Bilbo/OC, but meh…I will do two incomplete so you can follow along with the journey. And one complete for those who are impatient = (Me…Most days…)**

 **QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. *Complete***

 **Lesliezin: A Shadowed Companion. *Incomplete: Updated: 5/27/16**

 **JensPen (previously JMac322): The World Ahead. *Incomplete: Updated: 5/20/16**

* * *

At first, I thought I was imagining the shifting noise that I hear. Then I think that perhaps it's just one of the boys turning in their sleep. I am ashamed to say that I only wake when Thorin shouts at us to move…for the second time. This lethargy seems determined to condemn me as I am too sluggish to move quickly. Even as the floor gives out beneath us, I fumble unable to regain any of my balance. Luckily where I fail, Fili is alert; he grabs me as we fall and tries to curl me into him as much as possible with his smaller stature. My head is awkwardly tucked under his chin and his shoulders fold inward, acting as my shield. His legs manage to surround my hips, waist, and some of my legs now that I am actively trying to tuck into him. His arms wrap around me, trying to cover as many of my ribs as possible and his hands cradle my shins.

I feel the vibrations as Fili takes the first collision with the stone wall of the trap we have fallen into. Fili is taking the brunt of the beating and every hit results in a small grunt from his throat. At one point my shins and elbows are grazed by the rough surface so Fili tries to tuck me in closer. I feel my heart beating rapidly as I cannot help worrying about him as we bash against the stone walls. He didn't scream in pain. In fact, none of the others do, but it doesn't ease my worries. I know my human body would break under the dwarves' circumstance, regardless of my dark metal armor. I can only hope that my friends have bodies with stronger constitutions than mine.

At one point I very nearly hit the stone face first, but Fili shifts quickly and I only scrape my cheek along the cold surface. It stings and I have no doubt there is a little blood, but I ignore it as we fall further. The terrifying drop is over quickly as we reach the end of a stone funnel where we are piled into a small alcove. One side is lined with pointy, jagged metal that seems to have started to rust. The other side leads to a small wooden bridge. Fili lands behind me, his back pinned against the metal. I can hear him take a hiss of breath when Bombur lands and forcing the other dwarves into Fili. My concern returns fiercely.

"Fili, are you alright?"

He smiles down on me, "Just some nasty bruises; Nothing to worry about. After all, Mahal did make us out of stone. It would take a far longer drop than that to hurt us." Even as he speaks he winces slightly. I want to talk with him about it, but he doesn't appear horribly hurt so I will let it pass. We will need to move soon. "What about you?" he asks as he eyes my cheek.

"I'm fine; thanks to you. Bruises and scrapes only I think. I don't know why I'm so…slow. It's strange," I respond. He gives me a nod and then starts looking around the pile.

"Kili?"

"Over here."

Kili is only a couple feet away, pinned between the metal and the great pile of dwarf bodies. Thorin is strewn across Kili's lap as he tries to reestablish some semblance of dignity. I note that his hair is askew and looks quite angry, but uninjured so I avoid staring. I turn back to Kili and he doesn't seem much worse than his brother, but I worry like a ninny nonetheless.

"You alright?"

"You know the stone around here ain't that bad. It's a shame that it tried to embed itself in my ass," he chuckles. Without intending, a smile spreads on my face as Kili makes a tormented grimace and pretends to rub his backside. At least I know he's alright. It makes it easier to know dwarves are as tough as the very mountain they live under. We humans are unfortunately a little more delicate. Bilbo and I will probably be…wait!

"Bilbo!" I call.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me," his voice carries from over Bombur's bulk. Another puff of breath escapes me in relief; at least I think it is. My stomach is tight and I feel breathless like something has gone taut within me and making breathing painful. What is going on?

"GOBLINS!"

Despite that I cannot see him, I can hear Dwalin's cry near the front of the group. I can't see the goblins either, but I can hear their approaching shrieks and snarls. The members of the company shift as they struggle to right themselves and collect their weapons, but the imps are far too fast. They overwhelm us and manage to advance so far into our pile that I can see them. Grey flesh that blends in the stone around us, narrow eyes, and uneven teeth. Some carry weapons though most prefer to use their claws.

As they rush us, Fili pushes me behind him and I can see Thorin doing the same for Kili. Thorin is the first of us four to be taken, quickly followed by Kili. Fili tries to reach his younger brother with one of his dual swords raised. He does manage to kill one assailant, but five more topple him. I only manage to get my hand on the hilt of Locelnehtar, but before I can draw I am taken by surprise by two goblins that managed to climb over the back of the alcove. They pin my hands behind me and force me forward behind Thorin who is trying to charge after his sister sons. At the front of our train I can see Bifur putting up a valiant fight with nothing, but his fists. I am shoved and prodded forward along the rickety bridge, unable to turn around and fight back. From behind me I can hear Dwalin's war cries as he tries to attack the enemy and only manages to propel us onward.

As we are tugged along I can see the stone is jagged, very unlike the craftsmanship seen in dwarven strongholds. I recall the halls of Ered Luin being a thing of wonder; every hall a sea of colorful stone along the walls and every column a proud blending of the emblems of the three dwarf clans in the west. Nothing remotely similar between the two of them. And while I didn't spend much time on admiring the halls, even Gundabad had better architecture. The wood beneath us creaks under the strain as we pass over. It's shoddy and dry – I can feel the looming threat of it falling out beneath us every time we pass. Goblins are tiny, compact, and built for speed; the bridges may suite their needs, but we are not nearly so light.

The place reeks of death in the still mountain air. There is no real ventilation inside this mountain, which makes sense; I doubt the current residence have the capacity to make anything too complex. My thoughts of death are confirmed by the lining of bones everywhere. The remains show that all three races have been victims to these abominations over the past several years; including some of their brethren. The bones line every flat surface, several skulls are stacked on pikes, and some of the imps even wear them.

Something from above strikes me in the head and I cry out in pain as it lands where my previous injury rests beneath the bandages. Everyone in the company looks at me; I can feel their worried stares on my form. The warm trickle on the side of my face tells me that my head wound has once again opened and begun to bleed. Thorin tries to knock the goblin nearest to me off the platform, but two others hold him back and push him forward along the bridge. His growl fades into a ringing noise inside my ears. I look up to see what hit me. Up above there are several hobgoblins either clinging to the cavern walls or on other precarious looking bridges. They are throwing things at all of us; some bones, a few rocks, and other things I won't care to mention. Regardless, one of them managed to get me where it counts.

Suddenly, my ears clear and I can hear the deep beating of drums. A great open chasm is before us – the walls lined with a patchwork of wooden ledges lining every inch of the walls. There is a large platform in the center of the space being held up by two points of jutting stone. It gave the vague appearance that the dais is being eaten by a wereworm. My head pounds with the drums, my body aches, and despite the frightening situation I am tired beyond reason. The freezing rain and severe winds on the mountainside may have been viable reasons before, but now I have no idea what is affecting me. What in Eru's name is going on?

It is then that a shrill noise cuts in from above us. It is momentarily blocked again as the ringing noise takes up residence in my head once more. However, when the sound returns there is a new cacophony in the air. Is that…singing? Maybe it is croaking, but whatever it is it reverberates off of the walls and does its best to make my ears bleed.

 _Clap, Snap, the black crack_

 _Grip, Grab, pinch, and nab_

 _Batter and beat,_

 _Make em' stammer and squeak!_

Thankfully, the sound drowns out once more with the ringing sound. I may not like the elves, but right now I would listen to an entire play of elvish love sickness than hear that. As we get closer to the main platform I begin to half wish I was blind as well. Standing, singing, and dancing in the center of said dais is clearly the Great Goblin. He has also been taken to being called the Goblin King by those he rules and terrorizes. He spins and twirls to his own music – a large, wooden staff adorned with an animal skull of some sort in his hand. He wears a crown decorated with the teeth of mountain predators and rope. His entire body is covered in layers of fat – boils and pustules covering several inches of the large surfaces. There is also a rash consuming the right side of his face. His pointed ears stick out from behind the wispy strands of pale, white hair growing from his head. His fingernail and toenails are black from infection which has likely settled in all of his nail beds. The Great Goblin's eyes have yellow hue that reminds me greatly of piss in the snow. Despite this unfortunate sight, I am ever thankful for the single loincloth around his waist.

I can feel myself wobbling even though we have stopped before the dancing mass. Now that we are standing still my hearing returns and nausea fills my belly that has nothing to do with either the location or the present company.

 _You can yammer and yelp_

 _But there ain't no help_

 _Pound, pound far underground_

 _Down, down, down in Goblin Town._

He pauses momentarily to look at us with a menacing glare before taking a seat on his makeshift, wooden throne. He turns back to look at us with an evil smirk on his face.

"Catchy, isn't it?" he asks. "It's one of my own compositions."

"It's not a song," Balin speaks up from behind me as I sway slightly from the volume of his voice, "It's an abomination." Unfortunately, this only made his loyal servants cheer loudly, further aggravating my uncoordinated state. The nausea spikes and I stand behind Thorin and Oin in hopes of keeping the contents of my stomach in place.

"Abominations, mutations, and deviations; that's all you're gonna find down here," he grins as smaller goblins create a pile of our weapons near the thing's feet. "You are quite bold as to come armed into my kingdom. The only people in these parts with such weapons are spy, thieves, or assassins. So tell me which are you?"

"You have to speak up, lad," calls Oin. "Your boys have flattened me trumpet."

"I'll flatten more than your trumpet," threatens the Great Goblin.

"If it's more information you're wanting, I'm the one you should speak to!" says Bofur placatingly. "We were on the road…well, it's not so much a road as a path…actually, it's not even that, come to think of it, it's more like a track. Anyway, the point is we were on this road, like a path, like a track, and then we weren't! Which is a problem, because we were supposed to be in Dunland last Tuesday." Several of the others start shouting off pieces of information as thought it would help, but it only stirs the angry buzzing in my head.

"Silence!" calls the Great Goblin before he looks down at us angrily, "You're a good way from Dunland, my friend." Another of their number comes forward with one of our packs. The contents are expelled to reveal an array of elvish cutlery and candlesticks.

"They appear to be in league with the elves, my liege," says the little one with a face reminiscent of a rat. Clambering to his stubby feet, the "king" examines a golden candelabrum and turns it over.

"Made in Rivendell?" he says. He examines it a little further. "Bah – Second Age; couldn't give it away!" He tosses it over his shoulder and into the depths below.

I don't even have to look to know Nori is responsible. I noticed when he filched the silverware at dinner, I would have been more surprised if he had stopped there. I'm sure it's his brother's harsh stare that causes him to say, "Just a couple of keepsakes." As if Dori would be happy with whatever answer he could give right now.

"I'll only ask once more. What are you dwarves doing in these parts?" the Great Goblin asks. No one answers this time and the quiet tells the him all he needs. "Very well; if they will not talk we'll make them squawk. Bring up the Mangler! Bring up the Bone Breaker! Start with…well hello. You are no dwarf."

I panic for a moment think he found Bilbo, but then I felt his eyes on me. I thought I would have stood out before now, but I had unconsciously been hunching over in preparation to spill my guts. Thankfully, during the duration of the conversation I have managed to regain some of my stability and with any luck Bilbo is hiding amongst the dwarves or managed to get out before we were captured. When I meet his eyes, his searching gaze turns to a fearful and angry one.

"This no dwarf, my lads," he says addressing his subjects. "What we have here is a ranger and not just any ranger, mind. This is the Golden-Eyed ranger, The Scourge. The last of Imelkane's spawn, The Desolate One. This is a surprise indeed." The goblins around us begin to hiss at me furiously, but I can't bring myself to lose focus of the hulking mass. Since the death of Gijak, I have been called these sinister titles by the numerous dark fiends that I have slain. No one, but the creatures of the dark know these names. While impressive I do not bare them with any semblance of pride. What does it say about a person when even the monsters are afraid of you? Is that the way anyone would want to live; feared by all?

"It is a surprise," I state boldly. "I hoped you and your people would have been so far buried beneath these mountains that you wouldn't have access to the surface; especially since we rooted you out of the White Mountains."

"Heh, you have too much faith in your brethren, young scourge. Your regiments may have managed to clear us from the White Mountains in the South, but your reach only extends so far. Your people have been trying to drive us to extinction for the past two hundred years with little success," a sickening grin spreads across his face, "Not that it matters. Soon all of you accursed rangers will receive as well as you have given."

The faces of Vohar and Ethon appear behind my eyes. "What do you mean?" I ask. I worry for my friends even if we are no longer together. Even Morrigan appears briefly, but he is safe with our Maker now. Hopefully none will share his fate.

"You are a force to be reckoned with in this world. Do not tell me that you cannot feel it," he growls, "There is something in the dark; moving, preparing. You may think these past few years something peaceful, but the truth as that we have not been idle. The shadows have been restless throughout these lands. The specters, the wraiths, trolls, orc, and goblins alike have been on the move." Here he pauses before starting again with renewed gusto, "Soon we will rise again and you rangers will burn in the flames of our resurrection. Your ashes will fall in proclamation of our victory and in time you will be forgotten."

"Time does that to all things, even you," I comment as I glare. There is not much else I can do. I am still largely armed, but with this strange ailment hanging over me I have no guarantee that any attack will work. Also, the two pests that have my arms pinned to my back hinder any move I could make for my hilts; not that I would use them. In such close quarters there is no promise that the company would be safe and the mere thought of bringing them pain causes my guts to clench painfully. The Great Goblin, sensing my distress leans in to intimidate me.

"You know that he wants you," says the creature, apparently ignoring my earlier comment, "He may be busy in preparation for our Master's return, but he so does want to have you." I don't have to ask who he is speaking of. I know he means the Defiler. I feel a small amount of eagerness to hear where he has been hiding all this time. "Ever since you murdered the Gijak, the Soul Eater, he has hoped to find you in his travels," he continues, "I heard you drowned the Pale Orc's youngest in a sea of dragon fire after he killed your elf friend. Tell me is that true?"

I can feel it building now; the raw anger. It is beginning to overcome my aches, nausea, and fatigue. The mention of the Defiler puts the Battle Song in my blood and this thing's utter disregard of Hadrien angers me further. As if Hadrien had been mine to keep: he was a father, a friend, and now a precious memory that I refuse to let this piece of waste mock.

"I did," I growl, "I killed him and all those with him. I would do it again if given the chance." Gijak had been one of the highest ranks amongst orc forces and therefore had several dealings with goblins. While the army of the dark may not get along, there is something to be said about the respect they show for their superiors; even if the basis for it is fear.

I can see this to be true when the Great Goblin's face scrunches up, "Now Azog wants to return the favor. You have spent so long searching for him after what he did to your mother. It would be a shame if you did not get to see him."

"The Defiler died in battle long ago," rumbles Thorin's voice. The disease ridden thing looks away from me, distracted. When his eyes meet Thorin another menacing grin spreads across his face.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is," he says with a spiteful glee. "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror; King Under the Mountain." He adds a slight bow to the end of his statement before he straightens suddenly. "But I forget you don't have a mountain and you're not a king which makes you nobody really." I can hear the snickers of the goblins around us as they mock Thorin.

I can feel more anger rising in my throat because I know that the words would hurt Thorin. He would never let it show and considering what they are no one should listen to them anyway, but the fact that they are right on some level hurts him. He wants his mountain, he wants his kingdom, and he wants his home back. Thorin lost it because of his grandfather's greed and suffers still because of it. And after all those years he still manages the burden of leading his people with only friends and his last surviving kin at his side. These things are belittling him only because they have the upper hand.

"You say he is no one, but clearly you recognized him," I state reclaiming the monster's attention. "You know his name because when he and his people descended in the Misty Mountains they forced you so deep into the ranges that for a time the only food source you had was each other." Not uncommon, or much of an insult, but it gets the point across. "He may not be a king, but he is someone. He is the one that forced you to retreat back into Moria and it was his name that chased you back into your hole."

This is one of those times where I should have stopped, but I let my anger get the better of me. The dwarves cheer my words from behind me. The growl from the Great Goblin is the only warning I receive before his meaty paw hits the entire upper portion of my body and I meet the ground instantaneously. Luckily he didn't hit the side with my head wound and my arm acted as a cushion when my head hit the platform. I have a feeling if I leave the injury unchecked for much longer I might not manage to stay conscious. The dwarves begin to roar their displeasure and for a moment I felt Oin's hand brush my shoulder as they tried to reach me. I use that touch as an anchor and start to lift myself up slowly.

"So you think the Defiler's days are done do you?" he says to Thorin. "I thought the ranger would have told you, he's been searching for Azog for quite some time now. Ever since the Pale Orc managed to bring down his entire city and eradicate his people." The Great Atrocity pauses dramatically in hopes of letting it sink in. "No? I suppose he wouldn't. This one isn't inclined to share his kills and Azog has been his target since the moment he took the lad's mother." He smirks a little at the group behind me. I cannot see their faces, but I know that they must be disappointed with me, maybe just surprised. If we live, I will make it up to them; I swear it! "Rangers are known to be heavily armed," the crowned goblin continues. "Search them all again. Check every crack and crevice."

They begin to manhandle us again, searching for more weapons. I know Fili has hidden several knives on his person if the number he cleans during his watches are anything to go by. Hopefully, he will manage to keep at least one. As for myself, my boot and vambrace knives are taken. They also unhook the hilts and mask at the back of my belt. I try to reach for them, but I am shoved back by the goblins. As I try to keep my eyes on my possessions, one of the little beasts reaches inside my armor to try and find more weapons, but he finds something else. I yelp without meaning to and I unwittingly draw all the attention once more.

"Find anything interesting?" asks the massive goblin.

"The ranger is a woman, my liege," answers the one that groped me. "What shall we do with her?" He smiles manically. I know that orcs and goblins share their policies on captured women. I can only imagine what waits for me if their king decides to not wait for the Defiler to arrive. The Great Goblin stands up and looks me over. He is now appraising me with a new eye, but he turns to the dwarves with an apparent smirk on his face.

"A woman? Now really, Oakenshield, don't tell me you have resorted to using little girls to do your dirty work. Her record is certainly impressive, but I thought you dwarves had more honor than that." Thorin doesn't say or do anything and it prompts the pus filled mass to continue. "Don't tell me you didn't know? She does hide it rather well doesn't she?"

"To you maybe," I spit hatefully. I had hoped to explain myself to the others on my own terms, but now there is nothing for it. Everything is out now and I will have to deal with it, if the time comes.

"Regardless, you are the same ranger that has taken to hunting us and we will treat you as such. You are still a scourge that must be dealt with, but until then I am not above a little hospitality. Lads," he shouts, "Make the lass comfortable." All at once I am swarmed with pale hands as they work together as a whole to remove my armor. I can hear the company's cries once more over the sea of bodies. When they finally pull away I have only my tunic, breeches, boots and belt remaining. I am now exposed like an open wound. I try to hit any imp that has a lingering touch, but the look the Great Goblin makes me feel dirtier than those touches.

"Such a pretty little thing," he coos. "However, the Defiler will want you unharmed. That's his entertainment and I wouldn't want to ruin it for him. After all, the price for you is high and I wouldn't like to be shorted for damaged goods." He turns to Thorin now who is right next to me. "There is a price for your head too. Just the head, mind, nothing attached. However, I think I can get a little more for you if I keep you alive and…less damaged." He turns away from both of us to a small goblin with a parchment, "Send word to the Defiler I have found his prize and the ranger that hunts him."

With a cackle the thing speeds off down a line. I would like to think that there was no excitement that washed through me at the thought of finally having the chance to kill Azog, but if I were to be honest…

I raise my head a little and look at the other behind me. They were looking everywhere, trying to keep an eye on everything that moved and every once in a while their eyes would flicker to me. They were worried, I could see it. They didn't look mad at all. Kili even tried to mouth me something, but I couldn't see it. I could only imagine it was meant to be encouraging because of the bright smile he gave me at the end. These dwarves…did their Maker carve them from stone, but fill their hearts with gold?

"My lord they're bringing up the Mangler," reports the one with the rat face.

"Excellent!" bellows the Great Goblin and with a chuckle he adds, "I think I feel another song coming to me."

The bulky creature starts up his musical whimsy once more as his subjects wheel in the devices of our torture from somewhere down below. My head is finally starting to clear and a plan begins to form in my mind. I look over at Thorin who had been forced to the front of the group while we waited for Azog's arrival. Unfortunately, the others aren't safe. I hear whispers from the goblins that they want to start with either Ori or Balin. I can't bear the thought of either of them being tortured; their screams would do me in if their fear didn't show through first. I know I have to do something. Luckily, my hilts are resting on the top of the pile of the weapons. They aren't too far; one quick move and they could be in my hands. However, I have to chose; one choice more unstable than the other. I may end up hurting the company if I try to use it; it would be counter intuitive to trying to save them. My other choice requires absolute concentration and I'm not sure I can do that right now.

"Thorin?" I ask. He turns his head to me, giving me his attention. "I have a plan. I might be able to get us out of here, but-"

A sudden shriek from nearby cuts me off. One of the goblins had partially unsheathed Orcrist and screamed at the sight of it. The Great Goblin reacts just as violently, pushing himself back into his throne to escape the sword.

"I know that sword; It is the Goblin Cleaver! The Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand necks!" he says fearfully. At those words several goblins rush us with whips in hand. Thorin tries to cover me, but is dragged off by three other assailants. A crack of the whip leaves a thin cut on my arm, bleeding slightly. I can feel the sharp stinging, but my Battle Song is in full force and soon enough the cut is only irritating. Oin pushes through the enemy and takes Thorin's place in shielding me. "Lash them! Kill them! Kill them all!" I see two imps pin Thorin down while the third came at his neck with a blade. I struggle and try to wiggle out from under Oin in hopes of reaching Thorin. One hobgoblin sees this and with a crack of his whip a new cut forms on the side of my neck and shoulder. I let out scream of pain, but continue anyway. Then I hear the Great Goblin say, "Cut off his head!"

"NO!" I scream as watch the one with the blade raise it over Thorin. My wriggling is furious and with purpose as I try to reach for Thorin desperately. Then my vision is filled with a blinding light and I pray to any Maker that I have enough time to reach him, that he hasn't already been killed. There is a force wave that accompanies the light and it is enough to knock our captors down. In those moments of brief pause I manage to get from under Oin and charge forward blindly. When my body collides with what I think is the goblin with the blade I push with all my might.

At this point the light is gone and darkness fills my vision. I can feel a warm body beneath me and I use my hands to navigate to his face. When I can feel hair I run my hands through until I can find braids. I do and I find the beads I had first seen that night in the tavern. This is Thorin! I move my hand back to his head move back down to his neck. I can feel it attached to his body and his breathing a little ragged. I release a shuddering breath and a small smile, knowing that for the moment he is safe. Please, Mahal, if I cannot do it, keep your children safe!

My eyes readjust to the gloom and I look up to see the figure of Gandalf stepping out of the shadows. The light returns in the form of the magically relit torches. I can feel relief settling inside me, but not enough to dampen the Battle Song. I can honestly say that this is a rare time where I am truly grateful for a wizard appearing. He takes a brief look around before looking at us. "Take up arms!" implores Gandalf. "Fight! Fight!"

I only glance down once at Thorin who is looking back at me his eyes shining like stars in the dark. Movement shifts my vision to the two goblins that had pinned Thorin before. With a well timed kick I sent one over the edge and Thorin punches the other. Being closest to the weapons pile I start handing off the weapons to my friends as the combat ensues. I reattach my hilts and put back on my mask. I unsheathe Locelnehtar, creating its usual blue and orange eerie glow.

"He wields the Foehammer! The Beater; bright as daylight!" says the Great Goblin as he forces his bulk upward to take a swing at the wizard with his staff. However, Thorin came up from behind and manages to block the attack, using the massive beast's own weight to send him over the side of the platform. I take out two more captors alongside Bofur when there is a call from Gandalf. Apparently, we made a path and a possible escape route without even noticing.

"Follow me!" says the wizard as he takes the opening. We follow immediately with the pests close on our tail. One glance back and the wizard gives us a piece of sound advice, "Run!" We did as he bid, but I felt a slight tug on my tunic drawing me away from the edge of the bridge and into the mass of sprinting dwarves.

I look over to see Bofur looking at me worriedly, but he still manages to supply a slight smile. "Don't you worry, lass. You stick next to me an' the others an' we'll help you keep your feet." I give him a nod, but in truth I feel like crying. I had thought that they would be mad at me, but even as Bofur integrated me back into the group several dwarves moved to run with me, even speeding up to keep up with my longer legs. They worried about me. Why did Mahal have to give these particular dwarves such big hearts? What did I do to deserve them? When did I come to love them so?

* * *

 **Did it bother anyone else when Jackson made Dune worms for Middle Earth? They are the only few seconds I actually flipped off the Hobbit films in the theater. Just…wereworms? Really?**

 **Next time: The first look at Tahna's powers…**

 **Thank you everyone once more for all your love and support. I will try to be on time next time!**


	22. The Dragoness

**Hey everyone. So first off Happy New Year to all! Now I'm gonna make this simple: Work kept me busy till September, my grandmother passed away in August from breast cancer, I had to move out of my apartment in September, and then in October and November I was suffering from massive anxiety about grad school. Basically the only time I've had to write is this month and even then I have been working with my student loan people to make a plan. So now I'm looking for work too…it's a little painful on my end and it's a little hard to talk about, but here is the next part so I hope you enjoy.**

 **READER'S NOTE: Tahna can no longer sign Iglishmek. Instead it is a language called Nezkish. ro781727 pointed out that Iglishmek is more secretive than Khuzdul (because even some elves know Khuzdul, but not Iglishmek). Nezkish has a couple roots in Iglishmek and the elven sign language (if it has a name I don't know it or where to find it). The idea is that humans made up their own signs to fill in the blanks. So most words pertaining to the forest are elvish; and mountainous would be dwarvish words. The rest of the day to day words in town were made up by humans. However, dwarves learn it as well as a secondary form of communication so they can avoid using Khuzdul.**

 **Anyway! Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you so much for your reviews. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **angel897, AmythestSiri, Lady Arien of Rohan, Guest** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 **Pineapple3000** _– I know we had agreed on letting you have the edit on this one, but it's been so long and I just want this out here. If you want I can still email it and then update it, but I want people to know I'm not dead._

 **inperfection** _– I hope you will like Tahna's reaction to Azog it's meant to be a major flaw in her character. Make sure you keep me in the know, ok?_

 **dearreader** _– I think the movie does have major flaws. The Legolas thing is another good example. I could just hear Mario Smash Bros music in the background in my mind. But it being the final movie of the series I will still love it regardless._

 **Gioiosa** (your name wouldn't go with the dot) – _Good point with the trolls. I was just waiting for them to start turning into stone while they were fighting amongst themselves. I was thinking: 'Now…and now…what is going on?!' And thank you, I'm glad you like the story._

 **CrystalArmyWolf23** _– I'm surprised to see so many people don't like the worms either. And thank you so much, I'm glad you like it! I feel like the OOCness stems from Jackson when he made Tauriel. The fact that she commented on Kili's flirt in the dungeon didn't seem like elf behavior at all. But if there can be strange hobbits, dwarves, and wizards…there can totally be weird elves._

 **Salem '72** _– Oh wow! You're so sweet; thank you! I hope that they are all the feels!_

 **Melody-Ravenwood** _– I think we spoke before. But just in case, thank you again so much for your input. I had hoped that those scenes were realistic while still being funny._

 **ro781727** – _I finally did it!_

 **I've decided to do a story recommendations corner for my lovely friends here on FF. Since you're here for Thorin/OC I will only recommend those unless otherwise requested. I have a few good Fili, Kili, and Dwalin ones on file. I really wish there were more Bilbo/OC, but meh…I will do two incomplete so you can follow along with the journey. And one complete for those who are impatient = (Me…Most days…)**

 **kkolmakov: Me Without You. *Complete***

 **Lillianpost: The Reluctant Bridegroom. *Incomplete: Updated: 10/1/16**

 **Through the Mirror Darkly: Made of Stone. *Incomplete: Updated: 11/8/16**

* * *

Dwalin takes the lead with Nori right behind him. Somewhere along the way they pick up a large post and using Dwalin's strength, knock several goblins out of our path. Because Bofur has moved me to the middle there is little action for me to deal with, but from time to time a goblin would leap into the middle of us. Between Dori, Gloin, and Bofur they are easy to dispatch. Despite that I want to help my friends, I also find myself thankful to them for taking the brunt of the attack because of the exhaustion settling into my body.

At one point we have to stop entirely because there are too many goblins blocking our path. In order to keep what little ground we have on the main bridge we kept close to one another, but have to separate to keep from hurting each other. Dwarf weapons are large and bulky; so while the dwarves may work well with each other to avoid being hit. There are those of us amongst the company that has little practice maneuvering with dwarrow during battle.

I parry, thrust, and block every blow that comes my way, but there is one point where my gut clenches fiercely. I can sense a goblin coming up from behind me, but I fail to turn in time. Thankfully, Thorin delivers a killing blow to the imp and then turns to strike down an archer that had been aiming for Balin's back. He takes a moment to turn back to me and is trying to look me over for injuries.

He makes eye contact with me, "Are you injured?"

"No," I respond. I force the pain down and notice that there is an opening in the goblin ranks ahead. I start running and as I pass the dwarf lord I grab his arm. He quickly shakes me off – once he realizes what I'm doing. I call out to the others, "Keep moving."

We quickly fall back into our group and keep moving forward. I see something moving out of my peripheral vision when I look up along the other side of the crevice. Lining up along one of the higher bridges are goblins with ropes. They were going to jump over and separate us from one another. Also looking up I notice that the poorly made bridge above us is only connected to the wall with ropes. If we could cut them, the wood should be enough to block the imminent attack from across the gap.

"Cut the ropes!" I call to the others.

I strike one first as an example and the company jumps to it. Thorin takes the last rope and it works in both halting the attack from above as well as blocking the army behind us. It won't keep them away for long, but hopefully just enough.

I see Gandalf stop suddenly at the head of our train for some unknown reason. We begin to crowd up on one edge of the bridge forcing those of us at the back of the line to turn back and fight off goblins. I only manage a single block when Kili cuts the rope connecting the bridge to the cavern wall. I almost lost my balance, but Bofur grabs the back of my belt and drags me to the other side of the now swinging, wooden structure. When we reach the full lilt of the bridge Bofur and Oin pull me off and leap to the other side of the gap with them. Balin and Ori also make the jump and quickly jump with us. We stand up quickly to see the bridge swing back, picking up a few new goblin passengers with it.

It's a good thing I got off when I did because that single swing is enough to make me retch. All the effort I had put into not vomiting had been done away with one large swing. Some of it sticks to my hair and I wipe what remains around my mouth on my sleeve. Most of it appears to be water, but I hardly have time to investigate. Oin grabs me the moment I'm done to make room for the others that remain on the oscillating bridge. Everyone manages to escape the death trap after the second swing allowing Fili to cut the ropes and the bridge goes tumbling down the gulch taking its ghoulish occupants with it. Then we are off and running again with Fili and Gandalf in the lead.

The wizard at one point looks up and smacks the stone with his staff. This causes a boulder to free itself from the stone wall. It lands in front of our troop, rolling ahead of us and clearing the way of our goblin obstructs. However, that only works for a certain distance. The boulder falls off one bridge and as we pass over another smaller bridge only to find a larger accumulation of goblins. These imps have had time to make it to this point and head us off. We are prepared to fight off the hoard before us, but then the Great Goblin appears from the depths below us. I turn my back to face the enemy that had managed to follow us through the damage we made in the tunnels. Beside me are Bifur, Balin, and Thorin.

"You thought that you could escape me?" he says swiping his large staff at Gandalf. "What are you going to do now, wizard?"

I cannot see much as I am holding off the advance of the goblins behind us. I hear the Great Goblin cry out once brief pain and then again much more agonizingly. The thing is snarling at Gandalf before a loud thump is heard. Glancing over my shoulder I see the corpse has collapsed onto the bridge in a heap. However, the bridge cannot hold the weight and the segment holding it up breaks. Then we began to fall… There is a moment in which my body feels weightless and it is threatening to make me sick again. So I quickly push Locelnehtar through the wood in hopes of finding something sturdy to hold onto. The ends of the bridges snap, shatter, and tear as it brushes down along the walls of the cavern. One of the dwarves grabs a hold of me in the chaos, but I can't determine who.

When we reach the bottom, the rest of the structure collapses and my sword is knocked loose. There is enough room under the rubble for my legs, my sword, and the dwarf beside me. Looking around, I am amazed to find that we made it to the bottom of the cavernous ravine relatively unscathed. We are locked in the wreckage, but unharmed. Gandalf manages to pull himself out within seconds. I do the same, dragging out Ori who had strapped himself to my side earlier. He gives me a sheepish grin, but I give him an understanding nod.

"Well that coulda been much worse," says Bofur. While the words were meant to encourage optimism, it is not a second later that the dead Goblin King falls onto the entrapped dwarves. The loud sound causes me to jump in surprise. I thought that the large mass would have fallen before us and cushioned the fall of the debris, not the other way around. The dwarves release a chorus of grunts and groans and once the dust settles a second time I can't help rolling my eyes. Of course Bofur had to say something.

"You've got ta be jokin'," growls Dwalin. Approaching the grouchy dwarf, I immediately stick my arm out to try and pull him out from under the wooden heap. With a few hard tugs he is finally freed and together we work to release Fili and Kili.

Once Kili makes it out of the bridge debris he cries out, "Gandalf!"

I'm drawn away from working Nori's foot past a large beam. Looking back further into the cavern I can make out a massive hoard of goblins in the darkness coming right for us. They flow as thick as water down the stone floor of the cave. There are more than I could have ever imagined there to be within these tunnels. I hurry in my endeavor to free Nori and manage with a little help from Bofur.

"There's too many. We can't fight them," says Dwalin. Despite his frustrated calm I can feel the panic becoming palpable amongst my friends. They look around feeling lost and unsure of what to do. They knew strategically that they can't beat these odds. The greatest fear is on Thorin and Dori's faces and for good reason; they have the most to lose with their family members on the quest being the youngest. I take one look between the army of goblins and my friends struggling harder to get out of the bridge wreckage. As I remember the screaming women and children in the tunnels below Imelkane, I can feel my own hysteria rising. I don't want to die down here either…

It's dangerous to use my magic in close quarters and it requires absolute focus. I couldn't be worrying about my friends or else I most assuredly lose my concentration. But there is no choice; I have to do it now! If I didn't my friends would die underneath this mountain at the hands of these vile monsters – I have to save them.

"All of you!" I call for their attention. They look up at me with frightened and confused expressions. "Make for those rocks – there must be a way out! I can feel a breeze."

"She's right," says Gandalf. "Only daylight can save us now."

They quickly make their way to the aforementioned rocks, but I turn away from them to face the throng of goblins alone. Unfortunately, Kili sees me and calls out, "Wait! Where are you going?"

I reach behind myself to let my hand encircle the iron hilt at my back. The metal is already warm, the magic is already preparing for use. It used to scare me how these inanimate objects could somehow read my thoughts and just know I would use them. Now it barely even crosses my mind anymore. The one thing I do notice more than anything is that it manages to act as an anesthesia for the pains and exhaustion in my body. I feel loose and any lingering nausea has subsided for the moment. "Don't worry. I've got this," I say.

"You cannot stop them," rumbles Thorin. He tries to grab my hand and drag me away with the rest of the company. I draw my hand away and look him in the eye. "Do not be rash! We must flee!"

He seems desperate as he pleads with me, but he doesn't know that I can help save us. The only one in danger will be me. I can't give the goblins an opportunity to chase us. Even if it is sun up outside, there is no way we could possibly outrun them all by the time nightfall hit. These mountains have too many tunnels. It's likely that they would be able to hunt us down and give us no chance to rest. If I can damage them badly enough they shouldn't be able to follow…at the very least it will give us a head start.

"I can't," I say before starting to run. My boots hit the stone beneath my feet like a heartbeat. I can hear the company's cries behind me, but after a few moments I block them out. As I am running I curl my hand tighter around the metal hilt; with would-be each stab of pain the magic transformed it into a searing heat in my veins. I allow it to fester within me, fueling the fire building in my mind. There is a pounding in my ears like thunder. Then from underneath that rumble comes a voice, growing louder with each word. A voice that I hate…

 _They have to pay! All of them!_

Then amongst the goblins I can see her standing there glaring down at me. The goblins seem to flow around her, never touching her, focusing only on us. Not that anyone else can see her; she is an illusion in my mind's eye that I created to focus my magic. When I had first started training with Morinehtar the form that appeared to help me with my concentration had been figureless. With enough training, my hatred gave her shape and a voice. As I get closer she becomes more enraged, her eyes alight and she snarls viciously like a trapped animal.

 _These are the beasts that destroyed your home! They are no different from him! From Azog! He raped your mother! Forced her to have his children!_

Images of that day and those nights filled my mind. My friends slaughtered within their own home by a man we had all trusted with our lives. The fire that had torn through the city left smoldering ashes in its wake. The cold stone walls of Gundabad encircled my father and I, keeping us surrounded by death. Unable to tell whether the noises we heard at night were the wind or some poor creature being torn apart by the beasts that roamed the halls. I could feel that moment in the barn with Gaellyn with the flames licking at my skin, now a tool to hold the heat in my heart. I remember the terror and hate as I had waited in the rafters for my mother to give birth, only to discover that the monsters inside of her would rip their way out. Gijak and Bolg had entered this world by killing my mother – I let my hatred for them and their bastard father fuel my rage as I continued my approach. I can feel my throat closing and my teeth clench.

 _You could have saved her! You could have stopped it! She suffered and IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT! Gliwen died because you weren't strong enough to fight off the dark magic in the forest! You are a monster too. Hadrien died because of you! IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT! Those dwarves of yours are going die! AND THAT WILL BE YOUR FAULT!_

The goblins are now almost upon me, but I don't see them, not truly. I look up at the little girl who is screaming at me with all the fury I feel within me. Her golden eyes have tears streaming down her face, her clothes in tatters and covered in dried blood. When I look at her I can't feel anything, but hate and grief. It was her fault! I should kill her! It was as much her fault as Azog's. She needed to pay for what she did to my mother; letting her suffer those months of torture and agony when she just wanted to die. She should have given it to her, but she let her foolish hope get in the way! She wasn't strong enough, but I am…

I raise the hilt above my head, the flaming blade taking form. I don't notice how the goblins falter in their attack upon my summoning my magic blade. That's because it isn't the goblins I mean to hit, but the girl in their ranks. She should have given up while she was ahead; she should have stayed behind when her uncle told her.

 _Kill them! Kill ME!_

And with her words I sent the world up in flames. While still angry I no longer felt pain, the heat of the flames no more than an uncomfortable heat. The flames pour forward like an ocean wave; it flows over and through the goblins encasing them in a bright light. They squirm and scream as it consumes them like a vortex of fire, like dragon fire. I can smell the burning flesh at some point, but it doesn't register to me. I just need to know if I got her…

For a moment I pull the flames away with nothing more than a shift of the sword in my hand. The blade is still flickering up from the hilt, casting an eerie light along the stones around me. It provides me with enough light to look around. There are charred bodies lining the ground are almost unrecognizable. Swords and armor are the only remainders of the front lines of the goblin hoard. Wisps of steam are rising from the blackened and scorched corpses, but I look back up to where she had been.

Even after my attack she still stands there completely untouched by my attack. The goblins now fleeing in the opposite direction, but she remains unmoved. Some of the goblins are still on fire from my original attack and as they pass her the light passes over face. Her eyes are a blaze and she is still screaming at me.

 _You're letting them get away! How could you?! After what they did?! After what you let them do?! Do you know what they will do to your precious dwarves?!_

I only have myself to blame for their involvement. The more I came to care about someone the easier it would be to play to my emotions; especially my fear for their death and my hate for those who would bring them such harm. My flaming sword had once used Hadrien as a motivator and now it is the dwarves I travel with. Knowing this doesn't stop the spike digging into my heart at her words. I run forward at her, driving my flaming sword through her heart. As it does, I unleash another wave of fire in hopes of rendering her body into ashes. As the orange light grows brighter, it blinds me to the rest of the world.

* * *

Thorin thought that after this eve there was nothing else Tahna could do to surprise him; there has never been a greater misconception in this world. When she took off faster than he thought her capable of in her condition, his heart nearly burst.

"Lass!" yells Dwalin. His cry is ignored as she speeds ever closer to the goblin hoard. Both Fili and Kili try to go after her, but Gandalf stops them from advancing with his staff.

"We must leave her. Only daylight can save us now," says the wizard. Thorin is torn between collecting the ranger who had become his charge and protecting his kin. He can feel his fists clenching and unclenching with painful indecisiveness.

"We can't leave 'er here," says Bofur determinedly.

Kili takes Bofur's words to heart as the goblins close in on Tahna. He breaks off from the group and narrowly dodges Gandalf's staff. He yells to her:

"NAMAD!"

His cry goes unheard as the hilt she holds above her head suddenly grew a white hot blade of flames. The hilt in her hand began to glow from the heat of the flames and the rubies inset in the metal began to move like they are eyes. Then with a small downward stroke, a large burst of flames came from the ranger. They stretch so far that for a moment all the goblins are hidden behind the bright light. The cavern is now filled with enough light that Thorin can clearly see the faces of his company.

Despite the apparent danger that came from lingering, the dwarves cannot tear themselves from the glowing spectacle. The flames crash and climb the nearby stone walls like waves from the ocean. This effectively heats the immense space beneath the rocky terrain, reminding the dwarf lord of the heat of his forge.

Then it dissipates, cutting away to reveal the burning bodies of goblins. Some scream as they burn alive. Those untouched try to turn and run back the way they came. Thorin could see Tahna. She holds the sword in her hand as one would any other blade. All around her are small flames licking at her legs; they are like snakes dancing around her, looking for the right time to strike. However, she doesn't seem to notice or care as she examines the carnage she has left in her wake. The hot air causes her tunic and hair to flutter slightly in the drafts; this is the only movement visible aside from the fleeing goblins.

With the vermin finally on the run he expects Tahna to turn around and return to the company. A moment of hope wells within him only to be snuffed out with her next action. She follows the cowering goblins with no sign of stopping and with a swift thrust of her sword she disappears into the flame once more. At this Thorin's heart stops momentarily; confused and hurt by her absolution of the company. However, in his heart he can feel the wrongness of this, that there is something foul in the air. With renewed determination he prepares to follow her. Thorin grabs his eldest nephew and forcing him to look him in the eye.

"Get the others out of here now. Gandalf, lead them. Dwalin, with me," orders Thorin. Some of the company look like they want to protest, but Gandalf quickly begins pushing them along to their freedom. Thorin brushes past them as he begins to follow his ranger back into the cave with Dwalin falling into line behind him. Their loud footfalls are reassuring as they trample through the remains of the unfortunate goblins at the front lines. The crunching noise is sickening and the burnt flesh reminds Thorin of the day the dragon appeared. The ground had been coated in dead men and dwarves alike with ashes everywhere. The Great Goblin had called her a scourge, it now suddenly seems appropriate.

When they reach her, she has just crested the large stone which the goblins had been streaming down before her attack. She has her sword pointed out directly in front of her, but the one fiery blade becomes three and like arrows they shoot out from the hilt. They hit three major tunnels, filled with shrieking goblins, and explode into a bright orange light.

For a frightening moment Thorin recalls the nightmare he had in Rivendell. Of the flames from Tahna's mouth that had decimated him. It is a strange notion to think she is the cause of all this horror. The fact that these are dark creatures she is slaying to protect his kin makes it a little less terrifying. The power she has hidden until this point both terrifies and assures Thorin on different levels, but this isn't the moment to analyze such things.

Without much forethought Thorin jumps through the small wall of flames that still surround her and takes her arm. At first Thorin nearly pulls away because of the heat radiating from her skin. Her body feels like it is trying to burn him through the small amount of contact he holds with her, but he holds fast. He wonders how she can even stand this smoldering heat. How does it not hurt her?

When she turns Thorin nearly loses his grip once more out of surprise. Tahna's eyes have changed once more; where he had once seen warmth has suddenly become a tumultuous inferno. Her eyes are wide and bright, but they are so light that they are almost sickly. It's like she can see everything, but at the same time there is a slight glaze to her eyes like she isn't really here. It appears as though it has consumed her entirely. Thorin has the unsettling feeling of facing down madness once more. While Thorin is aware that she is not his grandfather, hers is similar in that furious rage that awakened when his paranoia mounted. Seeing it on his ranger's face frightens him beyond reason. This is the second person under his care to be devoured by their madness.

Tahna's face flashes before his mind's eye; back when she still wore her mask often and all he had to read were her eyes. Her face had been lighted by the campfire as she taught her nephews to play cards. At one point Kili had asked him if he had wanted to play and she had looked up at him. It was one of those times he had been studying her and he remembers the moment well. Her eyes had become warm and playful in the presence of his nephews; so when she looked up at him the look carried over. Thorin holds on to that image of her in his head. He could not lose her to this. He has to save her! He may have failed his grandfather, but he would not fail her!

His hand tightened on her arm, despite how it burns his hand. She tenses, not recognizing him, and sensing him as though he is a threat. The flames around her flare out, but regardless of his fear of those flames he holds his ground. He would not fail her.

"Tahna!" he says. Tahna stares at him now, looking him over as if trying to figure out how he knew her. She looks him up and down before making her way back to his eyes; she looks somewhat desperate to find something familiar about him. His grandfather had looked at him like that in decades past when Thorin had tried to pull him from the treasury. Thinking this a positive sign he continues calling to her, "The others are safe – we need to go now!"

For a moment her eyes clear as she focuses harder on him. Her flames dissipate, realizing she's not in danger from him. Thorin breathes a little easier now that the flames are subsiding and that Tahna is beginning to regain herself. The muscles in her arm were even starting to relax under his grip. There is a lingering pain in his chest at having to face this sickness once more in the face of someone he cares for. Then her eyes shift from him, as they had in Rivendell, but dread fills him now; because in that instant her eyes return to her distant state. The arm he is holding draws him closer to her and she raises her sword at something behind him. The heat of the flames rise again so quickly he let out a shout.

"Thorin!" cries Dwalin. Thorin can't see him beyond the wall of flame, but he knows his cries are heard. He clings closer to the ranger trying to keep himself from catching on fire. That's when he hears her whimper.

"Thorin?"

He looks up at her to see her eyes wide. As she looks at him in absolute horror, but entirely clear of the madness that afflicted her. The flames die suddenly, but in the darkness there is a faint light from the metal hilt. The heat from the flames has caused the metal to glow orange. It cools quickly, but it is as if she didn't realize it; if anything she grips it harder until she began to shake.

"I'm sorry," she says imploringly.

* * *

It is Dwalin that cuts through the haze. Not necessarily with Thorin's name alone, but the fear he holds in his voice; Dwalin doesn't get scared like that. I know Thorin is near, I recognized him before. The way Dwalin has cried out, however, tells me that he is scared for his king. He is scared of me; he is scared I would hurt Thorin. The thought is sobering enough that the inner voice of my sword fads out and with it, the flames. With her form and spiteful voice withdrawn there is a hollowness left in the air.

The heat is gone and I shiver violently in the damp coolness of the goblin tunnels. I grip the hilt trying to cling at the vestiges of heat. My eyes now have to readjust to darkness of the cave. I can feel Thorin's grip on my arm still and so I try my best to find his face in the shadows. When my attempt is rendered useless all I can do is whisper.

"I'm sorry."

With those words there is only a split second before Thorin begins pulling me away tenderly. I reattach the hilt to my belt, aware that I will not use it for a while yet. However, in the back of my head there is an hourglass which has turned and I only have so long before the magic I used catches up with me. The fatigue and nausea which had been repressed by the sword now return with a vengeance. For a moment I stumble forward with Thorin, thinking I am going to vomit again, but Dwalin steadies me. Once he thinks he can let go he grips his weapon and runs alongside us.

No goblins come out of their hiding spaces. No arrows fly through the air. The only sound is of our boots hitting the stone beneath us. We quickly pass the Great Goblin's corpse and resume the path the others had taken. We enter the tunnel that would lead to our escape with no other deterrents. The putrid smell which permeated the caves became less and less overbearing as we made our way out. We quicken our pace with the appearance of sunlight at the end of the tunnel. Along our way I could have sworn I heard a shift amongst the rocks; fearing the worst I force Thorin out of the tunnel before me in a blind panic. I intend the same for Dwalin, in case we are under attack, but the rock-brain forces me out instead.

"Ladies first," he says as he pushes me onto Thorin. The dwarf lord rights me before I can stumble further. It is a relief as I take my first real breathes of fresh air. Thorin reaffirms his grip on me as we run. I have half a mind to shake him off of me and keep my distance, but another shooting pain across my abdomen prevents me.

Dwalin falls slightly behind us as to watch our backs, but it is unnecessary. No goblin is following us; no enemy awaits us. I have completed my endeavor to buy us time, but the cost is taking its toll on me. The sun is still whole in the sky, but is steadily following its descending path. Had we really been there for almost a whole day? Looking up suddenly, my world starts to blur and I can feel the sweat collect on my brow. I am still unsteady and pray to any who would listen to make this stop soon; in this instance my prayers are answered.

"Thorin!"

Balin's voice rings clear through the air. The others had stopped to catch their breath or were perhaps waiting for us. Any that had been sitting now stand to assist their king. When we stop we are desperately trying to catch our breath. My legs begin to shake from the sheer exhaustion my body feels. Before anything can be said Fili and Kili are by my side – assisting me into a sitting position. My disoriented self accepts their help without complaint – seeing as I can't do it without them. Damn it all!

Oin kneels beside me as he digs through what small satchels he has left. It's then I notice how little gear we now carry. Most of it must have been lost in the tunnels. This thought dampers my spirits; there are still so many more miles of mountains to go. I allow myself to worry about our rations while the company chatters around me.

"Her concussion is worse now. And she has lost quite a bit of blood," says Oin. As he gently probes the open wound at my neck. "It doesn't look infected though."

"Where's Bilbo?" asks Gandalf. "Where is our hobbit?" His voice grew more hysterical with each word. I turn my head trying to locate him, but I'm met with pain from the whip wound on my neck and became overwhelmed with dizziness.

"Don't move, lass," says Oin gently.

"Curse the halfling," growls Dwalin. "Now he's lost. I thought he was with Dori."

"Don't blame me," cries Dori indignantly.

"When did you last see him?" asks Gandalf earnestly.

"I think I saw him slip away just before they collared us," pipes in Nori.

"What happened exactly?" demands Gandalf. "Tell me!"

"I'll tell you what happened," grumbles Thorin. "Master Baggins saw his chance and took it. He's thought of nothing, but his soft bed and warm hearth since he first stepped out his front door."

"I don't believe that," I groan in protest. "He wouldn't do that to us." I start pushing against the ground in an attempt to get up. Oin tries to push me back down, but I push him back. My legs are shaky, but I manage to stand. "He misses home, just like all of you, but he wouldn't abandon us. He's probably still trapped in the tunnels. I need to go back and find him."

I try to start back up the hill, but I only make it a couple steps before Thorin stops me. His grip on my arms acts as both a blockade and momentary stabilizer. "You can hardly stand and you are wounded. I forbid you from going," he says.

"I will not leave him at their mercy," I growl. "They are monsters. They will tear him apart!" The wisps of magic lingering over me are bringing out hints of my anger, but I do not have the strength nor care to try and rein it in. Imagining Bilbo at the hands of creatures, much like the ones that had taken her mother, lit a familiar heat in her belly. My fists clench, bunching Thorin's tunic at his upper arms.

Those bright eyes freeze for a moment in what appears to be fear, but then he returns my glare, "If he remained then he is likely dead already. Either way we will not be seeing out hobbit again he is long gone. There is nothing to be done."

I don't want to believe that statement so I glare futilely at Thorin as if I could stare him into submission. He returns it with just as much force and within seconds I accept defeat. My legs shake and before I can try to make it past Thorin again I collapse into his arms. I try to shrug him off of me – angry that he would give up on Bilbo so quickly. Then a dark thought consumes my mind.

Bilbo wouldn't have just left us; I know that. Thorin had said some harsh words to Bilbo before and it had been the weight to break the horse's back, but surely not without saying goodbye. There is also the fact that Nori had seen him, so he had been with us in the tunnels. But where is he?...Maybe I killed him? Thorin and Dwalin had gotten close enough to me amidst the flames. He would have certainly tried to help me if I seemed to be in some sort of danger. Without my complete awareness of the world around me, could I have accidentally consumed him in the fire of my blade? Did another innocent suffer because of me? What had I done? I can feel the tears filling my eyes.

Thorin tries to help me back up, but I instead find it within me to force him back; angry at him for his words. With nothing to hold me up my hands land onto the ground beneath. I can feel the crunch of the dry pine needles on my palms. No one says anything more. I can feel Thorin's eyes on me, but I don't want to accept he may be right. So I allow my head to hang, momentarily distracted with grief.

I only look back up when I feel something touch my arm. I look up to see Bilbo looking back at me. A relief wells within me at his appearance and I cannot help a tear or two being shed.

"Now none of that. I'm fine and I'm not going anywhere," he says with a smile. I collect my hobbit friend into my arms enthusiastically. He is safe; neither goblins nor I had hurt him. Bilbo's small arms did their best to encircle my large form lying awkwardly along my back. The brushing of the hobbit's brown curls against my cheek made my smile grow. I silently thank Yavanna for the hardiness she has bestowed upon the youngest of her children.

From somewhere behind us I can hear Gandalf, "Bilbo Baggins, I've never been so glad to see someone in my life." His relief is palpable and sympathized with by most of the company. I release the hobbit slowly. As I draw away, his hands come up to wipe the tears from my cheeks. He returns a bright smile to me reassuringly.

"Bilbo! We had given you up," states Kili. The large grin on his face relays the joy he felt of their friend's return.

"How did you get past the goblins?" asks Fili with a confused look on his face.

"How indeed…" adds Dwalin in an awed surprise of the small creature.

Bilbo grasps for the words; his mouth opening and closing inarticulately. However, obvious unease from the probing questions causes me to come to the hobbit's aid.

"What does it matter? He's back," I say. I feel myself slipping to a sitting position once more. Bilbo moves aside when Oin comes to aid me and this time I allow it.

"It matters," says Thorin gruffly. "I want to know: Why did you come back?"

Bilbo takes a moment before looking Thorin directly in the eye. "I know you doubt me – I know you always have. And you're right; I often think of Bag End. I miss my books and my armchair, and my garden." Bilbo pauses momentarily to let it sink in that they have been right in that regard, but also to find the words he seeks. "See that's where I belong – that's home. And that's why I came back. Because you don't have one; a home. It was taken from you, but I will help you take it back if I can."

His kind words touch me deeply, I can only fathom what the company might be thinking. After so many years at the mercy of men and elves who hardly ever cared for them before, only to find the compassionate heart of a hobbit. It becomes clear why Gandalf had brought this hobbit along; a kind heart is needed on this journey, not just willing ones. I don't have to look around to know that dwarves are either silently touched or near tears. Thorin has good enough sense to look slightly guilty for his earlier accusations.

However, Bilbo must not have considered his speech worth much as he is swift to change the subject. "Now then – let's take a look at you," he says as he grips my shoulder lightly. "What's wrong?"

Oin grunts lightly as he pretends as though he wasn't touched by Bilbo's speech. "As I was sayin' she's got a nasty concussion. She's also lost a lot of blood from the head and neck wound. The bruises on her face look worse than they actually are," says the healer as he checks my arms. I wince a little when he grabs my sword arm. Naturally he rolls my tunic sleeve up to find the wound, only to find none.

"How bad is the pain, lass? Does it feel like its bone or muscles?" he asks.

"The pain is mild for now, but it's nothing you can fix," I say. When I receive an angry look I explain further. "The sword I used has destructive properties – specifically self-destructive. I need to find some running water soon to negate the effects."

"What'll happen if we don't find any?" asks Gloin nervously.

"My body will start burning itself from the inside out, starting with my arm. Dragon fire will be a kindness in comparison," I groan as I get to my feet, Oin works to steady me. "We need to move; not only for the water, but there will be goblins on our tail eventually."

Fili and Kili take up positions on either side of me to help me up. "You need to rest, namad," says Fili. He has no idea how much I want to rest, but it simply isn't an option.

"No! We can't afford to stay here any longer," I say. "Don't worry, Fili. I'm more tired than anything. My legs are fine – I can walk."

"She's right," says Dwalin. "We need to keep movin'. We can stop when we find a more defensible position."

"Right," answers Oin. "Dwalin and Dori, you help the lass down the hillside. Bilbo and Bofur, you-"

A loud howl draws our attention away from the discussion at hand. A chill makes its way down my spine. How could they have found us so quickly? We have only just gotten out from under the mountain.

"Out of the frying pan…" whispers Thorin.

"And into the fire," finishes Gandalf. "Run! RUN!"

Before I can make an attempt to run I am picked up by Dwalin. He takes off with me in his arms and the weightless feeling make me slightly nauseous. I wrap my arms around his shoulders to stabilize my weight and ease his burden. The burning in my arm spikes during my initial grip. Somewhere behind us I can hear Oin shout:

"Mind her head!"

"Ya mind ya own business," shouts back Dwalin. His grip tightens slightly after a particularly hard jump from a rock. "Don't get too comfortable," he says. "Once you're all healed up I expect you to start pullin' your weight again. You hear me?"

"I hear you, Dwalin," I say with a small smile, despite the situation. It's nice to know that even the rather dour Dwalin thought we could make it out of this. "Thank you."

 **Next time: Azog…**

 **Thank you everyone once more for all your love and support. I'm not going to make promises I can't keep, but know that I am still writing this story.**


	23. Blood and Black Ice

**Hey everyone. I will be honest I don't have much of an excuse on this one. Still hurting from my grandmother's death and quite frankly I'm in a small depression pit. My friend tried to soothe me by getting me hooked on Supernatural (yes, I watched all 11 complete seasons). While it was a nice distraction I'm afraid I still have unresolved issues. Oh well it makes a great opportunity to write angst and hopefully my creative bunnies will hop around again.**

 **Anyway! Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you for your reviews. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **angel897, Princess of Mirkwood2, Hannah Bowers, FireDancerNix, KiwiRoses, and IfYouRememberMe** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 **(Guest) Lauthica Green Clinkenbeard** _– Oh wow! Thank you so much! I'm blushing! I had hoped to try and stay in world. I know it can be hard! Sometimes I have to stop and think about words. Like I can't use 'nanosecond'; they don't have that division of measurement in Middle Earth. I really over analyze, but it can rip a reader right out of the moment if done incorrectly. I also wanted readers to be able to picture Tahna in this world, as if she had always been a part of it. And yes…the fountain scene will remain one of my favorites for life. Thank you again and I hope you like this part!_

 **xTwistedChaosx –** _This series will most definitely continue I just needed some time off after my grandmother passed away. I'm working back into the mood. The biggest thing about characters is that you need to see them grow – Bilbo being the perfect example. As for your step-father I hope that he has transitioned into the deaf/hearing impaired community well. While I started the story a while ago I took and ASL for my last semester of university and I loved it! Love and blessings to you and your family._

 **SilverGhostKitsune** – _Yes! That is the truth for any story that's in progress I'm afraid, but I'm glad you like this story! As to Gandalf he knows too many people and too many people like him and his busibodiness to really like him. But as with most characters he will learn to grow on you._

 **Jhendoe** _– I know. I didn't mean to wait so long, but work kept me busy and after my grandmother died in August I didn't really feel like writing for a while. I'm glad you're happy with the chapter – I did work hard on it! See you for the next one soon :)_

 **I've decided to do a story recommendations corner for my lovely friends here on FF. Since you're here for Thorin/OC I will only recommend those unless otherwise requested. I have a few good Fili, Kili, and Dwalin ones on file. I really wish there were more Bilbo/OC, but meh…I will do two incomplete so you can follow along with the journey. And one complete for those who are impatient = (Me…Most days…)**

 **VirgCoup: Hearts of Stone. *Complete***

 **Leona2016: A Willing Heart. *Incomplete: Updated: 04/02/17**

 **kkolmakov: Fairytales from Under the Mountain. *Incomplete: Updated: 04/18/17**

* * *

I can see the shadows fade as the sun finally disappears over the horizon. Dwalin does his best not to jostle me as we continue to run down the hillside, but the wargs are on us before we know it. I see one leap at Dwalin's back, narrowly missing us. It only makes one more step towards us before Thorin came up and slit its throat with his elvish blade. Beside us, Ori slays another warg with a strike to the head from his war hammer. Further back I see Bilbo being cornered by another warg. Fear sweeps through me from seeing him all alone.

"Bilbo!" I scream.

Bifur, near the back of the group, heard my cry. He starts back tracking to collect our hobbit. However, it appears that the warg in front of Bilbo is no longer moving. I keep my eyes focused on both of them and when Bifur reaches him I see him remove Bilbo's small elvish blade from the beast. He then took hold of Bilbo's hand and scrambled after our company. Bilbo had managed to kill it – he is safe for now. I lost sight of them when Dwalin turns around, providing me with a view of the cliff side we have cornered ourselves onto. It takes a moment to realize that we have stopped moving completely with wargs bearing down on us. What do we do now?

"Up into the trees! All of you!" shouts Gandalf as he ushers us up the nearest tree. "Come on, climb!"

I am looking up at the trees, wondering how I would make it up, when Nori uses Dwalin's head to leap into the tree I observed. Dwalin tenses on the impact and then looks up as well to see Nori stabilizing himself on the lower hanging branches. Dwalin looks like he wants to say something, but once Nori is situated he turns back to me and Dwalin.

"Give 'er here," he calls down.

Without hesitation Dwalin lifts me up to the other dwarf easily. My arms extend out to Nori who gets a good grip on my shoulders and pulls me up. The branch trembles dangerously so Nori pushes me up further into the tree. I manage to move up a few more branches on my own and I settle on a sturdy limb to watch the other dwarves around me. Below me Dori lifts Ori into the tree and a couple trees over I see Dwalin following Thorin into another tree. Bifur and Bofur help Bombur into another tree with Bilbo right behind them, shifting nervously.

"They're coming," yells Thorin.

Once everyone is off the ground they kept climbing their respective trees and I breathe a sigh of relief. Soon enough my relief turns to both anxiety and fear. Wargs swarm the ground like maggots on a corpse. They circle the bottoms of the trees, occasionally leaping in an attempt to reach the dwarves on lower branches. Their eyes shine in the moonlight as it does with every nighttime predator. The yellow teeth protrude from black gums, but they too shine like a sickening light in the darkness. The noises they make are a frightening mixture; containing howls, screeches, and cackles. These are more, if not the same, Gundabad wargs. I couldn't forget the creatures that made these particular noises day-in and day-out in the year that Gundabad was home…

* * *

 _Father was sorting through the orc rations, trying to find something that we could take without being noticed. Both of us still wore our clothes from the day Imelkane fell, but they had started decaying from time and wear. Here we bathed rarely, only when we knew the stink of living human would become too noticeable. We also covered ourselves in warg skins to mask our scent. On the fresher ones we left a little meat on them and cutting it off once it began to rot, but at some point we had to destroy them._

 _I sat quietly in the room near the stores behind some barrels. From time to time the orcs of Gundabad would get lucky and attack a caravan of some sort that had journeyed too far north. This was one such time and an opportunity for us to take more than our usual scraps. I was on watch and should the orcs return I was to chitter loudly like the bats that made homes in some of the deeper tunnels. My father and I would hide up in the rafters that acted as supports in various rooms throughout the mountain until the orcs left._

 _The soles of my boot were worn and I could feel the cold as it seeped into the un-insulated leather. Thankfully the winter was ending, but in the mountains of the north spring was always late. My boots were also beginning to feel tight as well and it was not uncommon for me to lose feeling in them often. My fingers were thin and when I touched under my eyes I could feel how they had sunken in. My insides clung to the clothes and warg hide I wore for warmth. My hair had accumulated dirt and grease from lack of care – it even clumped in some places from orc and warg fluids that land there. The small knife was gripped tightly in my hand in case I was spotted. I have a feeling I could have passed for a ghoul amongst the orcs if it weren't for the fact that they never ventured this far north._

 _I shivered as I remain crouched, waiting for Kalar to return. I could feel the fatigue begin to overcome me, wanting to sleep where I stood. It felt strange to know my mother was only a few halls over. We had found her a few days ago, a prisoner in Azog's personal chambers. It had taken us a few months to find her due to the sheer size of the dwelling and because we had to move timidly and cautiously as we learned how the northern orcs worked. She was heavily guarded, but after a night where grog was plentiful we got inside._

 _Nirassi was shackled to the wall with just enough slack to lie down comfortably on the small pallet beneath her; I remember that for some reason it made me hate them more that they had given her that bed like it gave her some sort of comfort. She saw us come in with shocked wonder. I had been ecstatic, thinking we could save her and escape, but she told us she had been impregnated. She had asked us to…those words wouldn't leave my mind…_

 _That was when I heard it, the scrapping of talons along the floor and the rapid inhalation of air, consistent with sniffing the air. A warg was in the room. I took a small peak around a barrel at the end of the row. I saw a large beast with brown fur and a few dark spots on its pelt. It was poking its nose into another sack across the room, looking for something to eat. Usually wargs could find their own prey out in the wilds around the mountain; snow rabbits, an unlucky bear, and sometimes orc made up their diet. However, as I looked at the warg more carefully I saw the silver hairs on its ears, chest, and toes. As my eyes moved down its leg I could also see a large gash, the flesh looked inflamed and possibly infected. The wound was no longer bleeding which told me it had been at least a little while since it happened._

 _When its pointed head started to turn back in my direction I pulled back behind the barrels. I could hear the foul creature's breath as it neared ever closer. I put myself at the other end of the line of barrels, thinking I may perhaps go around until the monster had passed. However, just as I made it I heard deafening bark at the other entrance; only a few feet from my face was Azog's large, white warg. It didn't notice me, but one look at those yellow eyes and I would have sworn it could hear my heartbeat. I look back to the other warg, only its paw was visible from my vantage point. Just as the limb disappeared and I realized it must have left to face the newcomer. The snarls increased their volume and before I could form a plan of escape, two of the barrels near the other end crashed to the ground._

 _The surprise almost caused me to shout out. I could feel and hear them fighting behind me. My fear increased tenfold; if they didn't stop soon, orcs would appear to investigate. There was no way I could slip past them when they came to clean up the mess. I heard another crash across the room and I looked up and down the space where I had hidden in hopes of predetermining where they would appear next. Without warning, the barrel behind me threw me forward into the wall. I turned back in time to see white fur leap back into the fight._

 _The fallen barrel was the only thing protecting me from their sight. However, I righted myself behind another barrel, this time with a table between the barrels and them. Without any chance to catch my breath, the darker warg's head knocked over the barrel directly to my right. Its head turned to me and its focused shifted to me. A panic overwhelmed me; it wouldn't leave me alone if it knew I was here. The white warg began to drag the other warg away and in a need for self-preservation, I act. I struck the downed warg in the eyes with my knife. The shriek it emitted sounded like death cry to the pale warg so it pulled it closer. There was no hesitation before it closed its jaws around the blinded warg's throat and with a loud yelp, the downed warg stopped moving._

 _As the white warg took hold of its kill I used the opportunity to slip away into the empty antechamber that led to the supplies. I used a chest full of furs to lift myself upward into the ceiling supports. I was well hidden in the shadow with the lack torches, but I still feel myself shaking. I still saw the other entryway in case orcs appeared, but it also supplied me with the perfect amount of light to watch as Azog's warg began playing with its kill. I watched as it ripped the jaw from the head and tossed it across the room. It examined the cut I made, sniffing thoroughly, but ignored it and made to remove the tail. I observed as it takes the prey apart delicately before devouring it; the juicy shredding noise made me sick to my stomach._

 _Other wargs must have heard the final cries of the darker warg because more had appeared to partake in the fresh kill. They were far more interested in devouring the beast than the larger orc mount. However, they were extremely cautious about approaching the pale monster. It snapped at the new arrivals in warning, but slowly let the others have at the body. I watched numbly as the muscles, tendons, and organs were pulled away from it. Only a short while later, I saw my father slowly leaving the larder. I waved my arms and feet in the rafters, unable to make our usual call; orcs may not pay heed to bat chatter, but to wargs they were fun to chase._

 _He saw me immediately and made his way up into the wooden beams with me. Once he was next to me he could see why we had to wait. Physically, my father didn't look any better than me, but the change in him was palpable. I found myself afraid to look him in the eyes; they almost never closed and after finding Nirassi there had some kind of sick light. I could feel my father's soul underneath his withdrawn demeanor breaking slowly. I couldn't tell if I was helping hold him together or if I was just one of the cracks._

 _An orc appeared for his rounds, finding the wargs gathered amongst the supplies. He entered, shouting at the beasts in their guttural language to "get out". The smaller wargs left without any hesitation, but Azog's warg decided it was not done and drags its kill outside. It took the cadaver by the injured leg and I could just make out the face before it disappeared behind the corner; one of the wargs had luckily chewed and clawed at its head, effectively hiding my blinding wound. With only the orc left we let it straighten the messy store room and take a piece of jerk before he disappeared as well._

 _Another few seconds of silence passed before my father moved down to the doorway. Once he was certain that the orc is far enough away he moved to the next doorway. From there I could see him when he signaled me to come to him. I made my way down to join him, my movements slightly clumsy. I hid with my father in the same corner I had been in when the wargs had fought. My father looked down at me with a sad, but hard look; I could only look him in the eye for one moment._

" _Don't worry, Tahna. Just a few more months; just a little while longer and we will be free. All of us," he whispered. I knew then that we wouldn't make it. My father didn't even believe his own words, but the lie was easier. I was sick of liars, for however long I had left to live I would never be one. The shaking in my body that had continued since my initial fright now came from the pain of having to acknowledge the truth._

* * *

These wargs are well-fed and well trained; this makes them all the more dangerous. They pace restlessly, waiting for the command to attack once more. These are the same vicious wargs of the North; I can tell from the light coloring in their pelts which is absent in the wargs of Minas Morgul. Then I hear their master. I hear **his** voice…

"Nuzdigid? Nuzi gast. Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob."

Black speech. I remove my eyes from the wargs on the ground below us and towards the voice. There he is in all his horrific glory. For a moment I am frozen in shock. He looks no different than he did that day he slaughtered my kin. His eyes have the same sharp and sinister glee in their icy blue depths. There are no new scars and no lines on his face that indicated aging. The white warg beneath him also has no scars and appears just as eager as his master for our blood. The only change is the piece of metal embedded in his arm; it no longer appeared as a sword, but more like a metal claw.

Azog is looking at another tree. I cannot see clearly, but I know it to be Thorin's. Having hidden in Azog's hall for so long I managed to pick up on the language of black speech. It is not an accomplishment I hold in high regard, but it has proved itself useful when questioning the enemy. The mention of his father is either a very clever ruse or it means that Thrain had suffered terribly at the hands of Azog. I can only hope that he has found peace in the Halls of his Fathers. While I cannot see or hear Thorin, I can practically feel his emotions spinning across his mind as they are much in time with my own; the fear, the anger, and the sorrow in equal measures.

Pushing Thorin's feelings aside I return my eyes to the enemy. Having now recognized my own emotions they begin to boil under my skin. The anger that he had taken from me: my home, my father, and my mother are the most prominent. My last memories of them haunt me now in my waking moments. There is sorrow and emptiness that was left in Hadrien's wake. My fear now is that he would take from me now my friends, my brothers. It is clearly he who hunted them, if the Great Goblin's words had not been indication enough. He would take them all…

"Kod toragid biriz. Worori-da!" yells Azog. With this command the wargs on the ground began an attack us. It is with renewed vigor that they try to reach the dwarves hanging on the lower branches of the trees.

Each attack made begins to sound like a chorus. The clinking of talons is followed by a grunt as they leapt upward and finishes with a snarl or snap. They miss their targets, but I can hear Dori shout out beneath me as they come dangerously close. Ori and Nori make an effort to bring him higher, but Dori is shaking enough to slow their progress. A loud yelp from Gloin in another tree makes me grit my teeth in frustration.

I have to do this! My heart is pounding painfully in my chest, reminding me that I am here and I can finish what he started all those years ago. This is the moment – I can strike him now! I have wasted years of my life searching for him and now he is before me. But, this meeting seems as fortunate as well as an inopportune moment. Azog is right there and mine to fight, but at the same time…

I take another glance around the trees; seeing the fear on their faces and my hand stays by my side. I am frozen with a new fear that my hateful emotions may cause me to hurt them. The Dragonfire Blade doesn't discriminate between friend and foe, and with their only escape being the trees, they would surely be consumed. I could not use the flaming blade without the risk of killing my friends; this means that there is only one other option left. However, this option leaves much to be desired. The Ice Fang Blade relies on the user to be completely focused on instinct and survival. I could break the concentration momentarily, but if one of the others were to be in danger I could not help them.

"Sho gad adol!" shouts Azog. This is the only command the wargs need before they purposefully begin attacking at the tree roots. The trees' bases begin topple, seeing as how they are already unsteady from the thin layer of Earth beneath them. I can feel the shudder through the tree as it begins to loosen its hold on the Earth.

Ignoring the danger around us, I close my eyes to concentrate. All of the hate and anger I have allowed to simmer under my skin is forced out of my mind. It's not how I wanted this to happen, but the company is too precious for me to risk. The promise I made to Hadrien sits firmly like a stone in my chest. I slip one hand back behind me to cover the stone hilt. My body begins to cool on contact, causing a shiver to run through me as the vestiges of heat from my anger fade.

I can see the pale orc's face gleaming in the darkness. Then there is a light, illuminating his face as one of the orcs brought forth a large torch. I can hear them chanting amongst the riders present:

 _Bake and toast 'em, fry and roast 'em!_

 _till beards blaze and eyes glaze;_

 _till hair smells and skins crack,_

 _fat melts, and bones black,_

 _in cinders lie beneath the sky!_

 _So dwarves shall die,_

 _and light the night for our delight!_

My heart nearly seizes with the imagery their song provides my mind with. The fall of Imelkane flashes behind my eyes – the loss of my friends, my comrades, and my home. Another more sinister day comes to mind. My mother's body after the birth of Azog's hellions She had cursed our father and I for our false hope that had allowed her to suffer. After cursing me she had begged me for death to save her from being devoured by Azog and his minions…and I gave it to her. Then to save her from any other defilement I had thrown her body onto the fire of the orc lodgings. It was the only version burial I could offer her. A funeral pyre…

I push those thoughts away further and feel my body cooling with the air surrounding me. Then I feel the tree give away from underneath me. It falls forward towards Gandalf's tree. The others make it down the line of trees as they fall, all towards the tree at the edge of the cliff, but I remain attached to my tree. I feel the thunder of the fall through my legs, which weakens them further. I can hear the dwarrow calling my name once more; some of them are cries for me to run. I block out their voices and concentrate solely on the cold settling in my veins. This will offset the fire magic I used earlier, but I cannot waste time on this fight. Soon enough the magic will return to wreck havoc upon my mortal body.

Everything is still and for the first time since this encounter, Azog sees me. From the look on his face he sees something familiar about me, but before anything can be said three wargs still lingering at the base of the fallen trees charge. At this point I feel nothing and hear nothing, except for the cool voice in my head instructing me. She speaks sharply as the beasts begin to converge on me.

 _Act now._

I dive beneath one warg, the ice blade forming as I move. A quick dodge of the snapping jaws gains me access to the soft underbelly. Once I get there the blade guts the foul creature.

 _Beside you! Aim for its head._

The next warg leaves me little time to react, but I roll out from under the corpse and thrust the blade up through its open maw. It got close, too close. The blade recedes into its nonexistent state and the body falls to the ground, unmoving. Looking behind it, I see the last of the three wargs pacing back and forth, assessing the threat I posed and how it could bring me down.

 _Don't allow that thing to get closer to you. Kill it now._

I raise the hilt, the blade reforming, and like breathing the ice ejects itself from the hilt and through the foul thing's throat. There are no more shouts and no more howls. The air fills with silence and the wind. I cannot feel the coolness of the breeze for my body has become numb to such things. The air around the hilt recreates the blade using the moisture of the air as a base. As this happens the condensing of the blade causes the air to appear in thin streams of white.

I look back up at Azog and I can see in his face that his surprised, but unyielding in his mission to collect Thorin's head. He looks at the carcasses around my feet and up at the dwarves in tree before decisively settling on me.

 _He is dangerous. He is feral and vicious. He is a general of darkness. Keep up your guard._

I never take my eyes off Azog and his party. I bring my free hand to the blue stone on the pommel of the sword and slowly begin dragging it up my arm. As my hands move more vapors form and creates ice along my arm. With my mail completely gone I need something to shield me. I end the ice shield at my shoulder and bend my elbow to crack the ice there and allow for mobility. I don't have time to do the same to my other arm before Azog speaks to me.

"Mirzlat?"

"Gathroku mat," is my only response. I can see the white mist that escapes my mouth with each breath. I am in the thick of it now. With the combination of my injuries and the use of both my magic swords it would only be a matter of time before I collapse.

 _You need to end this quickly and leave. You must kill them!_

I run at them suddenly in hopes of forcing them into the fight. More wargs come out from behind their orc masters. Throwing my shielded arm backwards behind me and swinging it forward, large chunks of ice release themselves. The beasts are momentarily blinded and I use those seconds to run the ice blade through their throats. With each fallen creature blood freezes and accumulates on my blade, making it easier to kill one after the other. When the last one falls my blade is a black and at least the length of my own body. I look up at Azog again, but this time there is an expression I have never seen on him before – surprise.

"Iinizg lat," he hisses. Considering that he only saw me twice I'm surprised that he even had the where withal to remember my existence.

I break the blade off with my opposing hand where the blood begins and jab the ice into the ground. The magic flows through the moisture in the earth and creates a layer of ice on the surface of the dirt. To most opponents this gives me and advantage after having trained in the ice caves of the north, but not with Gundabad wargs or orcs. They have fought in the same conditions I have – in that we are equals.

"Kranklab zogtarkuzizish zark amukhizg tramuzto," he growls out with a sneer, "Tonphrakhizg pashlat zash." My heart tightens, but I don't lose my concentration. Let him speak, he won't be talking much longer.

As the corpses around me accumulate the orcs seem to realize I'm more of a threat than they originally thought. They now stand around their leader defensively. They are no longer attacking me out right, but they snarl and hiss at me from the distance. There are only a couple of yards between us now. They think that they can keep me from reaching Azog so long as there is distance between us, but that is hardly a problem.

 _Use the lance!_

I slide the hilt up to my shoulder as a long spindle begins to form. It's as though I am holding a large crossbow on my shoulder. The spindle twists and enlarges with each turn. My aim is Azog, right in the middle, like trying to hit dead center. I can practically feel my victory at hand…when I hear a loud scream from behind me.

The large ice shard on my shoulder stops and the weight sits heavily on my shoulder. Looking behind me I can see that the tree holding the company is beginning to fall over the edge of the cliff. Ori actually falls off and has to grab hold of Dori to prevent from falling to his death. My breath hitches and fear begins to settle uneasily in my gut.

"No," I whisper. A loud crack beside me draws my attention away. Suddenly the large icicle on my shoulder cracks in two, with the tip falling right in front of me.

 _You are losing focus! Forget them! If you don't focus you are going to die!_

I turn back to face my foes my teeth grinding in my mouth. My friends are going to die if I do nothing, but if I turn away now Azog will get away. I can see the hideous grin on Azog's face as he too watches the tree begin to give under the weight of the company. This is my chance to end this once and for all, but if they fall then he will win. If they can hold on for just-

"Kalar!"

I hear Fili cry out. When I turn back again I can see that he and several others are holding on to the tree for dear life, while their legs dangle over the edge dangerously. The tree is now resting at an almost completely horizontal angle. I drag my eyes back to the orcs and wargs; they have begun to see my hesitation and have begun to edge forward towards me.

 _You can't!_

I can't lose anyone else. Looking at the smug bastard begins to make me lose my concentration. The frustration is building, but I can't let it affect me or it will cause what little magic I still have to dissipate. With a cry of anger I jab the ice into the ground. The ice flares and shoots upward to create a flimsy wall of ice. I break the ice blade away from the rest of the structure. Lifting the hilt, the remains of the blade fall apart along with the icy armor I had created. The wall wouldn't hold, but perhaps it could buy me some time. I reattach the hilt to my belt and start running towards my friends. Once I'm at the tree I wrack my brain for an idea of how to save them; it only takes a couple seconds.

"Dwalin, the mithril thread," I call up. The dwarven warrior tries to adjust himself, his hand reaching inside his tunic to reveal the shinning metal. I remembered that the goblins didn't find that in their search, it must have been too light. He throws it down to me and I pick up a rock to wrap one end of the mithril around it. With a fancy rope maneuver, the thread is tied to the base of their tree. The only thing nearby that might be able to hold it is another fallen tree. I head to the nearest one and jump to the side of the tree facing the cliff. I slip the thread through the loose soil, all I need to do is roll the tree a little more and it would work to tie it off. I jump back over and use my legs to try and roll the log a little. Maybe I could push the tree over the edge with my sword and pull the falling tree back onto the ground.

However, just as the tree starts to roll I am grabbed by my hair. I scream in surprise and the sharp pain in my scalp, but it stops when I'm thrown into the air. My back collides with a large rock, it hurts, but thankfully nothing breaks. I look up to see what threw me and what I see stops me dead.

A large shadow, larger than that of a man stands where I had been seconds before. It fades in and out in the light of the moon, switching between being solid and shade. A cold fear settles in me far worse than anything else. I know it is something dark, something far worse than Azog or his compatriots. His eyes fall on me and I can feel it pierce me as if it were a blade. They are like fire in the night, full of rage. I can hear the shouts of the company in the distance, but there is a whisper coming from the shadow that manages to override them. The sound fills my ears and before long it becomes deafening. I cover my ears with my hands as I try to block the sounds. It doesn't help though as they become louder and his black tongue continues it begins to burn inside me; as if he manages to burrow inside my head to set it on fire and create the painful drumming there.

Before I can comprehend what is happening the shadow picks me up again. This time his hand wraps around my throat, cutting off my air. My body screams from being unable to breathe. I try to grab at its hand, but it I can't seem to get a grip on it. As it holds me above the ground I can see behind the creature; Azog has made it passed my ice wall and is currently fighting Thorin. Panic, much like those terrifying seconds in the Goblin tunnels, begins to rise once more. I watch uselessly as mace hit his face. I cringe, but I cannot do anything else against this nameless opponent. My vision darkens as his hold only tightens and I can no longer even try to draw breath. Thorin is trying to get up once more, but the white warg locks his jaws on the dwarf lord. I try to scream, but all I can feel is my body failing me and my body begins to go limp. I struggle to stay conscious when all of a sudden the shadow bursts into flame.

The creature throws me away from him, lashing out in his pain. I tumble across the ground with such force I roll several times before the ground suddenly gives out beneath me. I can see the deep crevasse beneath me when I fall over the edge of the cliff. In a blind panic, I grab at the stone wall and find purchase, but my body is so weak and tired; my wounds are screaming in agony as I try to hold up my own weight. I look directly above to see both Ori and Dori hanging onto a tree branch for dear life. Dori's face is contorted, straining as he tries to hold on for his little brother's life.

The crushing fear and sorrow well up within me for a few devastating seconds. I hadn't anticipated the shadow. I don't know if Thorin is alive. My friends are dangling over the cliff where they would inevitably fall to their death. It feels as though the very world around me is falling down. I had promised – I swore to Hadrien that no more would die for me. For all my powers I am completely useless to save those I love the most. My eyes fill with tears as my grip on the stone tightens so severely that the pads of my fingers tear and bleed.

"Kalar!" Now when I look up to the edge I can see Kili dropping his sword and throwing his arm down to me. "Take hold," he cries. I steel myself before finding the smallest amount of footing on the rock wall. Using that advantage I push up, releasing one of my hands to take hold of Kili's arm. Once his hand wraps around mine he puts all of his weight into pulling me up. It is a rush as he places me back on the ground.

As I regain my bearings I see Bilbo facing down orcs, defending what appears to be Thorin's body. I see Thorin's eyes close and his head lulls to one side; I suck in a small breath of air between my teeth and hold it in my lungs. He can't be dead; I can't lose him too. Beside him I can see Dwalin, Fili, and Bifur fighting back the orcs and wargs. Kili stands back up and pulls me up with him. He takes hold of his sword once more and with a small smile returns to the fray without me. Another snap of the tree has me turning in time to see Dori and Ori disappear from the tree branches.

"NO!" I scream. The mithril thread is sliding passed me as the tree falls. In a moment of desperation I grab a hold of the thread and try to pull the tree up myself. "Climb off!" I scream to my friends. The mithril cuts my hands further, but I refuse to let go. I can feel myself being drug forward, towards the edge. I see more of the dwarves fall and my heart breaks. "Please don't," I whimper. This cannot be happening. Then without warning the mithril snaps, the damage from the troll's impact finally causing the thread the break. The sudden drop of weight makes me fall backwards and the tree falls over the cliff completely.

Despite the pain in my back from hitting the ground, I'm back on my feet quickly. Before I can fully understand what had just happened, a shrill cry fills the air. Then up from where the tree had fallen, large eagles appear with my friends astride their backs. The relief of seeing them is enough to make me feel dizzy. While the others take to the sky, I turn around to see more eagles descending on the orcs. They are grabbing wargs and their riders only to throw them over the edge. I see one large eagle hover over Thorin and lifting him into the sky, his oak shield falling from his limp form.

Azog shouts out at the eagle for stealing his target, but there is nothing intelligible in his cry; it is all anger. From the corner of my eye I can see the others being picked up by our feathered allies. Finally realizing what this meant, I wrap the remaining thread around my hand and start running forward. I pass the pale orc and his warg, surprising them. I grab the shield and Bilbo, the latter making a disgruntled noise as I did so. Then without another thought I keep running until the earth is no longer beneath us. We only fell a few feet before a large bird caught us on its back.

I make sure Bilbo has a good grip on the eagle's feathers before I turn to look back at the cliff side. I can see the remaining wargs circling the area once more, but they seem confused and unsure of what to do now. I can't help the frustration I feel surging through my mind as Azog escapes from me; after a few decades of searching and losing those I care about only to lose my chance. As they disappear into the distance I can feel myself becoming more lightheaded. I reach around Bilbo and try to get my own grip on the feathers. I wedge the shield just under his body so it would sit nicely; even that in itself is exhausting. I don't want to collapse on Bilbo, but every minute that passes feels like stones are being set on my shoulders.

"Kalar? Are you alright?" asks Bilbo as he looks up at me. He still looks terrified, but I don't know what to say to him. "Your hands are bleeding," he whispers. Sure enough the feathers in my hands are turning a darker color than they should be. I just shake my head at him and keep looking forward. I can just make out the other eagles ahead of us and tears form in my eyes.

"I don't know, Bilbo," I answer. The night has taken its toll on me and the emotional weight of these events have settled over me like and iron cloak. The last time I had been this afraid was when I had fallen into Morinehtar's cave. When I thought that everything was over, that I had nothing left. I can feel the hot tears falling down my face as holding it back becomes harder than I can bear. My breathing is ragged and short as I try to hold myself together. Looking down, I see Bilbo's hand wrap around my wrist.

"We are still here," he promises. "All of us." I nod my head in acknowledgement, but I settle my head on his shoulder. There I cry into his jacket as the wind whips passed us. Between Bilbo and the eagle beneath us my world fades into shades of blue as I allow myself to break.

* * *

Several hours later I have ceased my tears and I can feel the painful magic beginning to seep into my hands and arms. Bilbo and I are both silent as we let the wind overtake all of opportunities for conversation. The view is beautiful and might have been more so if I weren't in pain. We caught up with the rest of the dwarves, but they seem either too stunned to say much or haven't noticed our arrival. Fili did call out his uncle's name in hopes that he would awaken during the flight, but as Bilbo and I near him we could see that he hasn't. The sun is beginning to rise when we reach the opening of a large valley. One tall rock towers over everything else.

That is where I see the eagle lay Thorin down gently. Gandalf is the next to land, rushing to Thorin's side. Bilbo and I land next and he is careful to make sure I have my balance before he lets me stand on my own. The other dwarves land one after another opposite us on the rock. They stand nearby waiting for Gandalf to help their king. Gandalf is murmuring his spells under his breath, but as Thorin begins to shift and his eyes open I feel more relief settle on me heavily.

"The halfling?" asks Thorin. With those words the dwarves start stumbling over one another to help their king to his feet. Bilbo's face is a mirror to the relief I felt a few seconds earlier. I pat his shoulder and move over to the side. There are stairs along the side of the rock, which concerns me. They had to have been made by someone, but for the moment it serves as my resting place. I take one large step down onto the second stair and listen.

"It's alright. Bilbo is here. He's quite safe," answers Gandalf benevolently.

I take a seat just in time to see Dwalin and Kili helping Thorin up. When he makes eye contact with Bilbo he turns angry, "You!" He shoves Dwalin and Kili's arms off of him. "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed." I'm not sure where this sudden animosity is coming from, especially since the hobbit had saved his life, but I am getting tired of it. These are grown men; they need to get this sorted. "Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us? I have never been so wrong in all my life."

When the dwarves start cheering I look up to see that he is hugging Bilbo. I can't look for too long though. The soreness in my neck prevents me from twisting my head like that. As I gently press my fingers to my neck I can feel the bruises stinging. It's where the thing that had grabbed me; I can feel that it runs down my neck to the slash the goblins left. I can feel the upper part of the cut is also where the shadow grabbed me has left charred remains along the ridges of skin.

"I am sorry that I doubted you," I hear Thorin say.

"No, that's alright. I would have doubted me too. I'm not a hero or a warrior; not even a burglar," I can hear the slight laugh in Bilbo's voice as he says that. Gandalf even gives off a light chuckle. "Here, this is yours," the hobbit adds. I can only imagine that he's talking about the shield; he must have grabbed it when we got off the eagle because I had forgotten it. I am examining my hands when the eagles fly away with a final shrill cry. The palms have been split wide open and they would be infected soon. I unwrap the mithril thread from my arm, now only half its length. It is a sudden reminder of my failure, of how I had almost failed my friends.

There are several moments of silence before Bilbo says, "Is that what I think it is?" I look up, ignoring the twinge of pain. The dwarves are all crowding to one side of the stone structure, looking ahead. I lean a little ways to the edge of the stairs to see that at the entrance of the valley, in the far off distance, there is a distinct mountain peak that is visible.

"Erebor. The Lonely Mountain. The Last of the Great Dwarf Kingdoms of Middle Earth," says Gandalf. It didn't need an introduction or all those names; that is just Gandalf showing off. However, it doesn't take away from the beautiful sight it makes or the hope it brings.

"Our home," says Thorin longingly. I wish I could see his face; I'm sure that it is something to behold. The same hope rings in his voice more loudly than any bell. This is probably the closest he has been to the mountain since it was taken. I pray that it is everything he has been hoping for. A slight breeze picks up and the pain in my body starts to mount, but by being still for so long it has made the exhaustion impossible to resist.

I lean back onto the stair behind me as I hear Oin call out, "A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain." As the cool stone touches my back I close my eyes, the pain is dangerously ignored while my consciousness slips away from me entirely.

* * *

"That, my dear Oin, is a thrush," comments Gandalf. It seems a little silly that Oin wouldn't be able to recognize the difference between a thrush and a raven, but no one saw fit to comment this morn.

"Well we'll take that as a sign," says Thorin. "A good omen." The first sight of the mountain after escaping overwhelming odds leaves Thorin optimistic and a little giddy. The company has survived and eagles have taken them through the rest of the Misty Mountains. While the situation is not its best, it could have been far worse. Now with the sight of their homeland and no longer half a world away; it brings a smile to the would-be king's face.

"You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us," says Bilbo, adding to the uplifting sentiment of the moment.

Thorin raises the shield and joyfully tests the weight, the feeling of familiarity and gratefulness overcome him. He turns and picks up the elvish sword and returns it to the sheath on his back. "What made you think to bring this with you?" Thorin asks as he hoists his shield once more.

Bilbo blinks before realizing what it is the dwarrow is asking, "I didn't. Kalar did." He goes a little pale as he hurries to one side of the rock looking down. For a moment all are confused until his eyes widen. "Kalar!" he shouts as he tries climbing down. Thorin's heart seizes. He along with the rest of the dwarves rush to the edge to see what had become of their ranger.

When she first dropped down into the chaos of the orc party, all he felt was rage and frustration; to think that she would risk herself just after they had rescued her. Then there was panic that she truly was in danger once more. He almost tried to follow her then, but Dwalin kept him back. When the first wargs attacked his heart had stopped beating, but then she attacked with more of her strange magic. Unlike the rage filled strikes she had made in the goblin cave, each move she made there had been cold and calculated; as though she thought through each motion before she did it. Her magic amazed him, just as it did in Goblin Town, but after seeing her recede into herself he found himself all the more afraid; Thorin couldn't afford to lose her. She had mentioned the destructive power that came with such abilities and worried him.

However, the ranger had ceased her attack in an attempt to save them, but as she struggled with a counterweight a shadow had appeared through the ice. It was a dark and malicious thing; they could feel it even from several yards away. Tahna had been so focused on trying to save the company that she had not heard them when they tried to warn her. Thorin's voice still feels sore from the yelling he had done. It came from behind and grabbed her. At that point he had scrambled to make his way out of the tree and to Tahna's aid, but at the same instant the wall she had created shattered.

He then came face to face with his greatest enemy and more than likely Tahna's. He had felt the burning desire for revenge, but there was only one need; to save the woman who has shown nothing, but love and dedication to his company. He thought he would save her from the darkness; both from within and from without. Unfortunately, he lost the fight against Azog in the end, but he still would have done it to save her. Where he failed to protect his family and his people he would succeed with her; she is strong enough and in some ways stronger than him. However, the last thing he had seen was Bilbo defending him. The hobbit, being so much smaller and vulnerable, had worried him. It was the last thing he thought and therefore the first thing he remembered. It hurt him to know that he had almost forgotten Tahna.

When Thorin reaches the edge he looks down to see his ranger unconscious against the stone. Her face is contorted in pain, but she doesn't move. The only movement that is visible is her breathing and even that is shallow. The stairway is cut in stone and each step is steep; so steep that Bilbo's arm cannot reach her slumped over form at all.

"Dwalin!" Thorin calls out. The son of Fundin is the tallest of them all and if any could reach her it would be him. He comes forward and upon seeing her, he jumps down. He lifts her up to others who carefully support her up to the flat stone. They lie her down with equal caution. She doesn't stir during the whole thing and it makes them nervous.

"What's wrong with her?" asks Fili. Kili is beside him panicking quietly and watching her with unusual focus. When no immediate answer is given, Thorin asks:

"Gandalf?"

The wizard takes up a position beside her, running his hand over her unconscious form. He searches for a moment before the ailment became obvious. Steam starts rising from one of her hand wounds and in her other hand it begins to accumulate frost.

"It's that foul magic!" says Gloin in condemnation. "You must stop it, Gandalf."

"I cannot stop it, only she can do that. However, I can slow it down and buy her some time," he says. He brings his staff to her chest where her heart rests. He mutters yet another spell and the effects seem to stop. As the wizard draws away he says, "She said she needs running water to perform her purification spell. We must get down this infernal rock and get her to the river. Quickly now."

All the dwarves jump into action as they begin scaling down the towering stairs. They pass their dormant comrade down from dwarf to dwarf with absolute delicacy. At one point Thorin is the one holding her as the others work their way down the stairs. He can clearly see the damage that the shadow and goblins caused. It makes him uneasy and if he could see his own hands he would see them shake. He cared for her – he would have died for her that night if it made a difference. He could see it now that her value had expanded beyond that of a ranger, a protector, or a comrade; she has become something much more treasured. Thorin has come to rely on this woman more than he thought he could anyone else. He has never needed someone to lean on, friends he trusted with more than anything else certainly, but this is something new…

Tahna is proud, loyal, and strong; the best trademarks of all dwarves. Then there are other things about her that are unique. She's knowledgeable, kind, and passionate. They are traits that Thorin looks for in any worthy companion. Then there are the characteristics that remind the dwarrow of himself. It is a familiarity and a comfort that he has only found in the closest of kin. This connection with the ranger of the west is more intimate than the would-be king could have predicted. It is because of this reason that Thorin sends up a silent prayer to any god that would listen; he prays that she would live so he may see her bright, golden eyes once more.

* * *

 **My Horrible Black Speech Translations:**

Nuzdigid? - Do you smell it?

Nuzdi gast. - The scent of fear.

Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob - I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain

Kod toragid biriz. Worori-da! - That one, bring him to me. Kill the others!

Sho gad adol! -Drink their blood!

Mirzlat? – Who are you?

Gathroku mat. - Prepare to die.

Iinizg lat. - I remember you.

Kranklab zogtarkuzizish zark amukhizg tramuzto. - Your mother bore me well when I raped her.

Tonphrakhizg pashlat zash. - I suppose you will be the same.

 **Okay so I cried making this part if I'm totally honest. It's gonna happen again over the next couple of chapters, but then we will be back on track with less angsty things. For those of you who feed off angst – you're welcome.**

 **Next Time: Healing, Feelings, and more freaking tears man…**


	24. Laithra

**Hey everyone. So I'm gonna need a little time again because this week…I'm going to Texas! Then I'm moving to Texas…Phew. Yeah it's gonna be busy, but I could actually use your help. I've never been to Texas and I could use some help/advice. I'm looking in the south western section of Houston – kind of Bellaire area, maybe Pearland.**

 **Also Happy Memorial Day to all! Whether you've been in the service, know someone in the service, or just appreciate all brave men and women over the globe – thank you! Have a great weekend everyone! And for those of you in Europe and the US stay extra safe this weekend please!**

 **Anyway! Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you for your reviews. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **angel897, (Guest) Lauthica Green Clinkenbeard, FireDancerNix, Selyne Nightshade, CrytsalVixen93, Sparky She-Demon** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 _ **Chica90**_ _-_ _Thank you! I love making up OCs, but I know that it can be hard to make one that others feel is believable without being an absolute Mary Sue. As for her story I kind of wanted someone who could relate to Thorin on the deeper levels of what he has been through, but still have enough youth and caring for her to be approachable. And an update – I've read both "From Hell" and "Stirring of the Leaves" now, both will be on the next recommendation list._

 _ **kdm956**_ _–_ _Thank you for the wishes. So far you, Chica, and Nix are the only ones who have mentioned it and I do appreciate a kind word so thank you again. This chapter is for you, Chica, and Nix!_

 _ **djmegamouth**_ _–_ _I'm glad you like her!_

 **I've decided to do a story recommendations corner for my lovely friends here on FF. Since you're here for Thorin/OC I will only recommend those unless otherwise requested. I have a few good Fili, Kili, and Dwalin ones on file. I really wish there were more Bilbo/OC, but meh. I will do two incomplete so you can follow along with the journey and one complete for those who are impatient = (Me…Most days…)**

 **Jayne DLM: The Drakk Kazhunki. *Complete***

 **WantedWild: After the War. *Incomplete: Updated: 04/22/17**

 **SwanInProgress: The Loudest Silence. *Incomplete: Updated: 05/13/17**

* * *

I suddenly become aware that I am entrapped in the unending darkness of my own unconscious form. Despite that I have yet to wake, I am finally beginning to feel once more. There is a heavy weight upon my chest, as though someone is sitting on it. My limbs ache painfully and throb like an infected wound. It's the blade magic. Years of experience are telling me the destructive magic is still ravaging my body, even in sleep. I should be grateful though; at least there are still arms to be felt. My arms would be gone by now if the magic had finished its work.

When I finally have the strength to open my eyes all I can see is the blue sky. When I turn my head I can see there are some white clouds in the distance, sitting on the tops of mountains. There is a forest some leagues away in the same direction. It looks dark and ancient, but it is not like the evil of Mirkwood.

A memory comes rushing to me; I know this place. Those are the Misty Mountains and that is Fangorn Forest. I came here once with Hadrien, just after we left Lothlorien. Hadrien and I called it, "Laithra." It meant forgotten, as no one had marked it on any map or told of it when we stopped in North-torr. As far as we knew, no one else had a name for it so we claimed it for ourselves. Once I sit up properly, I can see the lake directly ahead of me. It glitters in the sunlight as the wind passes over its surface. The shoreline is hidden from view, but I'm lost momentarily in the nostalgia of the location. I remember the early lessons of swimming I had given Hadrien here; I thought it too silly to contemplate that an elf didn't know how to swim. I chuckle a little at the memory…

There is a slight movement just over the hill, facing the lake. I make to move for my sword or the hilts, only to find that there is nothing on my person. I release a huff of frustration that I have no arms to speak of, but as a ranger I'm not completely helpless. I try to listen for further movement or motion when I realize something. I cannot feel the wind; I can see the grass moving in the breeze, but I can't feel it. Cautiously, I run my hand through the blades of grass. My eyes widen as I watch them bend under the pressure, but I can't feel them. There is also no sound, not from the grass or the water.

'Plop!'

The first sound I hear comes loudly from the lakeshore. It isn't really that loud, but in the silence of the world, it startles me and brings me to stand. The sound comes from the same direction that the movement had come from. I crouch slightly, prepared for whatever might come my way…

"I can't quite put my finger on it. It's simple and silly really," says Hadrien as he comes from over the hill. He is running his hand through his short hair, clad in nothing, but his tunic and breeches. My body stills entirely as a smile spreads across his face, "but it is so much fun. Growing up in the confines of the Greenwood the only place we could throw stones were the fountains in the city. They didn't make nearly as much noise." He hadn't changed…not at all…

"Hadrien…?" I ask. It's the only word that can make its way out of my mouth. I have so many questions, but they become stuck in my throat. Emotions overwhelm me entirely – the sorrow and happiness are anticipated; the unadulterated joy is unexpected.

"Throwing the stones into a lake makes bigger ripples and they take longer to settle, before peace resumes. It makes me feel like a wizard!" he says with a laugh and a smirk on his lips.

While this whole situation is completely strange I cannot find it in me to care. This is Hadrien – my Hadrien; everything about him couldn't be more right. Without another thought I take off, running to meet him. I throw my arms open to capture this life-like shade of Hadrien. Then I wrap them around him as if he were a stone in a raging river. When he remains solid I hold him even harder.

I can feel his body warmth; it's full of blood, breath, and life. I can smell the thyme soap and his own natural scent. There is also an underlying scent of pine that has followed him since we left the Greenwood; I believe it follows him eternally. It is an overall strange combination that is worn only by the eccentric elf I have come to know and love as a father. When his hands encircle me and make comforting strokes through my hair, I burst into tears.

"I've missed you so much," I sob loudly. The emotional weight of his death and everything since slams into my body with the force of a cave troll. There is so much I want to say; so many things I need to tell him. I have been without him for so long that all at once I feel so lost. I find myself yearning for his advice, his humor, and his affection. I have needed him for so long and being alone has only made my longing worse.

"It's alright, Thoronen," Hadrien whispers gently into my ear. "I have missed you too. You seem to have aged so much since last we met, but I have only been gone for a short while. Where did the young woman I left behind go?"

My hands clench his tunic harder and shook my head. Burying my face into his shirt with my eyes closed is easier than looking him in the eye. How do I tell him that I had buried that girl with his body? How am I to look at him and tell him that I had left everyone I cared about after his death? I had even abandoned Tauriel. How can I face his disappointment?

His hand in my head leaves my hair to tip up my chin so I can look at him in his bright, green eyes. There is a gentle look in his face lingering between happiness and sadness. I try to turn my face away, ashamed, but he doesn't allow me to budge.

"Oh, Tahna," he murmurs, "Why are you crying, mirer? You shouldn't be so sad. I thought you would be happy to see me?"

"I am!" I burst out. I truly am glad, practically ecstatic; but I feel like I have dishonored him somehow. Tauriel and I are the only ones who know what happened between the three of us. Thranduil had thankfully allowed him to be buried in the Greenwood with his wife, but the only knowledge others have of the incident are either circumstantial or what Tauriel has been willing to share with them. It feels like I have hid his memories from the rest of the world.

"You shouldn't cry, gornilen," Hadrien says. He takes my hands and pulls me back down to the ground so we could sit together. "I know exactly what you're thinking. I know you and I'm an elf so naturally I know everything." A small laugh makes it out passed my lips and his responding smile is beautiful. "You know that I would never be disappointed in you for needing to grieve. I know you haven't forgotten all we talked about, but something has changed in you. You are afraid of something and it is taking leave of your senses. Speak with me, Thoronen. What weights on your young heart?"

It takes a moment to compose myself enough to even form a word. He is patient and as he waits he wipes away the tears falling down my cheeks. "I found Azog," I start – taking a deep breath before beginning again, "but he…he almost killed my friends and I let him get away."

"That fight was hardly 'letting him get away', Tahna," he says. I can feel my eyes widen. He knew? "Mandos may house our souls in his halls, but there are always windows. I have been watching you, dear one. I know that you would have beaten Azog…" He trails off suddenly. His face becomes dark as he touches my neck tenderly. "It was his master that appeared. He knew Azog wouldn't be able to defeat you so the Necromancer made his appearance."

My heart freezes momentarily. The Great Goblin made mention of a Master to the dark creatures of Middle Earth. However, I didn't think there was a dark creature alive with this sort of power. "So that shadow is the one controlling Azog?"

"Yes," he says uncharacteristically solemn.

Only a moment passes, "Did he order the attack on Imelkane?"

"That I do not know."

I nod my head in acquiescence. That knowledge wouldn't change anything. However, it is an odd thought that anything would control the Pale Orc. Azog seems like a force of nature, as though he could be controlled as easily as the wind. The more I think about the Great Goblin's words the more it makes sense. Now that I have come face to face with a greater force of evil I am beginning to see just how fragile this "peaceful time" is. The Necromancer is what Hadrien calls him – I will be sure to remember that.

"What ails you, Tahna? These windows show us what happens in the physical world, but not what is in people's hearts. I knew you once, inside and out, but you have grown and you have changed. Tell me your troubles, iellen. We do not have any in the afterlife and it tends to be terribly boring," he says trying to goad another laugh out of me. It doesn't work, the frown on my face is stuck there; he means well, but his death is still too painful to find it remotely funny.

"Frustration and anger are a part of it. I had him within my grasp, Hadrien. I could have ended it right then and there. I could have avenged my parents, everyone. There was no Shadow when I had him at my mercy, but then I let him go," I say between my clenched teeth. I hold his hands tighter, my head hung in shame.

"At what cost to you? What about your friends? What would have become of them if you continued? You had no choice, Tahna – not without killing a piece of yourself along with them. If you hadn't tried to save your friends they might have fallen to their deaths."

"THEY FELL ANYWAY!" I shout. I give him a hard look, his eyes widening in surprise. A deep self-hatred and fear leaping into my throat, breaking the levee I hold hidden away beneath a mask of collected calm. I always have a plan; I always keep on fighting. Then last night there was nothing; no more plans and I couldn't fight back against the darkness that descended upon us. It would have truly been the end. "THEY FELL AND THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO, BUT WATCH! I LOST YOU THE SAME WAY! FOR ALL MY POWERS I WAS USELESS! WHAT GOOD ARE THEY IF I CANNOT USE THEM TO PROTECT THE PEOPLE I LOVE?!"

I cry harder now, allowing myself to pour the fear, terror, and sorrow in those tears. We have been lucky and that is all. Luck is what saved us; for me that is not enough. I cannot risk everything the dwarves and Bilbo have become to me on a gamble, on a chance. It's not something I can do – it's not who I am.

"The burning of Imelkane taught me that even the strongest of us can fall into darkness. Azog taught me what evil looks like. I learnt magic to fight that darkness. I learnt how to survive in the wilds to strengthen my resolve against such evil. Then you taught me how to be human again. You showed me where to look for the light, but not how to stop the darkness from taking it away," I end with a whimper. I am holding his hands so tightly now I'm sure that if he were living I would have broken them. When he presses his forehead to mine it feels so much cooler than mine; do I have a fever?

"Sadril, you love so fiercely. You are right they did fall. If the shadow hadn't appeared maybe you would have saved them, maybe you wouldn't have. What if you hadn't been there at all, mirer? What if that shadow had come after them anyway? There is a world of possibilities; of what might have been. But that is not what did happen. You must take what you have been given. They all live and there is no better outcome."

"I just want them to be safe," I say hoarsely.

"Then you have chosen the hardest path in the whole of Arda, iellen," Hadrien says with a sad smile. "You can keep dwarves out of trouble about as well as you can expect a fish to walk. The path will be long and difficult, but do not give up. Darkness can find its way into any heart through our grief. I did my best to be your shield and teach you to fight back against it. As for your dwarves and hobbit – I see them here," he points to my chest where my heart lies. "They stand like pillars of light, shielding you from the blackest night."

"What about Azog? If I want to keep hunting him shouldn't I let them keep going on without me?" I ask. I hardly want to leave them, but I made a promise to both Hadrien and my parents. With Azog chasing Thorin and the others there is no way to separate myself from my mission and their quest. I feel myself well and truly torn. He pulls me into his lap so my back is against his chest and wraps his arms around me like a hug. He kisses the hair on the back of my head. Once he finishes he tucks his face behind my ear – so close that I can feel his breath on my neck.

"Is that truly the path you wish to take? The one thing you have been gifted with is time, Thoronen," he says. "Whether you do kill Azog or you outlive the damn bastard, there will be people in this world who are far more worthy of your time; the dwarves for one. Their love for you is just as real as yours for them. Do you think if you were to come to harm they would stand idle? The devotion of a dwarf is as steadfast as the mountains they live in." He pauses momentarily and proceeds, holding me a little tighter. "It was once said that: 'it is a terrible thing to love something death can touch.' Loss is a part of life dear one, but you cannot live in fear of it. Believe me, if anything being dead has given me perspective on – it is how to live."

"Did you have any regrets; with how you spent your life?" I ask. I don't know why after all this time I still need to hear him tell me that I wasn't a mistake, that he didn't regret his choice in saving me. I already knew the answer, but to hear it brought me such peace.

"None," he smiles. "No matter where you go, Tahna, I will always watch over you. Consider your promises kept, sadril, and never forget that I am proud of you. My love is with you forever, iellen." With those words I realize our time together is coming to an end. I grip the hands holding me, trying to hold him to me for a while longer. I'm not ready for him to leave; we didn't even have the chance to talk about Tauriel…

"I love you too, adar," I say with tears in my voice. I'm not ready to let him go – it's the first time in a while I have been able to talk to someone who just knew everything about me. I can feel his hands becoming lighter and soon he is no longer solid at my back. It makes me cry a little harder and it causes the world around me to blur.

When there is nothing left to cling to I am enveloped in unconsciousness once more. However, this time the darkness doesn't feel nearly as heavy, but the aching pain returns more strongly. My body winces from the soreness and immediately brings about more hurt – I feel stiff, like I haven't moved in ages. I begin to hear voices and warmth surrounding my body. I'm on the cusp of waking and sleep; aware, but not awake. I struggle to open my eyes, but once I finally do all I see is an orange sky and purple clouds. Then a face fills my vision. It is not Hadrien this time, but Fili. His blue eyes are full of worry and his hands gently cup my face.

"Are you with us, namadith?" he asks.

His touch acts as a stark reminder to the fact that he is safe. I had seen him and heard him on the eagle's back, but this feels so much more real. I want to move my arms to touch his hands and let him know I'm alright, but I cannot move my hands. So all I can do is look back at those caring blue eyes and say:

"I am here, nadad."

A smile splits his face and he looks up and away from me to shout, "She's awake!"

* * *

Thorin calls the Company to a halt once they find a calm point in the river where they could wash away the filth of their traverse through Goblin Town. It takes a better part of the day to reach this point and Tahna still has not awoken. Dori carried her a majority of the way to their temporary camp. Thorin had tried to take over carrying her at the bottom of the Carrock, but several members of the company refused him. The main argument being that his injuries would worsen his own condition if he tried. So Dori, being the strongest of the dwarrow, took charge of carrying her to their destination.

Thorin first orders a check on their inventory to see how much they lost to the goblins. Aside from the small provisions they keep hidden on their persons, it seems that all they have are their weapons; except for Bombur, who had the wherewithal to collect a small cooking pot, some bowls, and a ladle from their supplies.

Feeling rather anxious about sending anyone too far from the camp, the dwarf lord decides to send out parties of three to collect what they lost. Thorin sends Fili, Kili, and Bofur to hunt. Meanwhile, Oin sees to Thorin and Tahna's wounds, but quickly realizes he would need herbs to prevent the lacerations from becoming infected. With Thorin's approval Oin sends out Nori, Ori, and Bilbo to find what the healer requires. Gloin sets about starting a fire and creates a rack for Bombur's small pot. Bombur has been running back and forth between the stream, the fire, and Oin, maintaining a steady flow of clean water to wipe down their wounds.

Bifur, Dori, and Dwalin are setting up a perimeter and checking the nearby tree line for signs of recent goblin activity. Balin stays with Oin, acting as a second pair of hands. While Oin cleans Thorin's wounds with the boiled water, Balin wipes away the blood that accumulated on Tahna's hands and forehead. Thorin is shirtless, leaning against the rock allowing Oin to wipe away the blood, dirt, and grim. Normally, Thorin would demand to do it himself, but he is far too absorbed in making sure the ranger is still breathing to care. This doesn't escape Balin's notice, but he remains silent with a woeful expression on his face.

Gandalf has taken up a seat near the fire, his focus on the pair of hilts in his hands. The wizard turns them over and over again in his hands. He is amazed at how well this form could hide this much magic. At first glance they are nothing, but elaborate decorations. However, once they are in his hands, he could feel it. There is magic encompassing them. The stone hilt settles in his hand with an almost familiar weight to it. It is heavy, but only in the physical sense. The sensation could be likened to raising a familiar sword or putting on a pair of well-worn boots. The other hilt felt more volatile – as if he were holding a writhing snake in his hands. There is something else about them, as if there is more magic resting dormant on the surface.

" _There is magic…All around you…His magic…"_

Radagast's words whirl around his head as he looks over to the ranger, curious as to how she came across such magic. She hardly has an air of evil about her, but it can be hard to determine. She may yet be a tool of the Enemy, but he would have no reason attack one of his own; unless she defected perhaps. The wizard watches as Thorin gently touches the fingertips of her damaged hand after Balin finishes his cleansing ministrations. The grey wizard tucks that piece of information away quietly with a quirked eyebrow.

More unexpected events…when he was with the White Council he mentioned the heir of Imelkane in hopes of learning more about her. Elrond found her intriguing, but before her visit he hadn't even been aware of her existence. Saruman didn't appear curious about the ranger at all, despite that he at one time frequently visited Imelkane. However, prior to these events it seems that Galadriel had met her once before. At the mention of the ranger she gave a small smile, but little else.

" _The ranger; does she worry you?"_

" _Not as much as she once did. I was afraid her own motives would make her a danger to the company."_

" _You have no need to fear from her, Olorin. She will see this venture to the end. She must…for she is chosen."_

" _Chosen for what?"_

" _There will come a time when her true purpose will be revealed. You will know then and so will she."_

Gandalf is knocked out of his reverie as the dwarves start to return with their respective bounties. Fili and Kili bring their findings over to Bombur; consisting of a couple of rabbits and one wild pheasant. Bofur trails behind them carrying some wild radishes and potatoes, much to Bombur's surprise. While the Ur brothers set to work on the meal, the princes abandon their prizes to take up a vigil beside the golden-eyed ranger. Thorin subtly ceases his gentle touches, but still keeps a sharp eye on the three of them.

Oin finishes with Thorin and joins the others to see what herbs they managed to obtain. As he and Bilbo are sorting through them Kili takes up Oin's cloth, trying to gently clean the wound at her neck. However, when her tunic becomes a barrier he starts trying to take it off to get to the rest of the cut. Before Kili could get far, his uncle's hand covers his own, effectively stopping him.

"What do you think you are doing?" Thorin growls out.

"We need to clean the rest of the cut. I can't get to it unless we take it off. What if she's hurt somewhere else? We can't allow any wounds to fester for proprieties sake," explains the younger son of Dis.

"Then leave the task to Oin. He is our healer and that is his purpose on this quest," says Thorin in a testy tone. Kili opens his mouth, retort resting on his tongue, when Gloin intervenes.

"He's right," adds Gloin in a placating manner. "It is important that her wounds are seen to, but Oin will care for them. There is no need for a young, unmarried dwarrow such as yourself to see to such things."

Kili's face changes like a shadow has fallen over him. Suddenly, he is no longer the playful nephew of a dwarf lord, but an angry and displeased dwarrow. It is an expression eerily familiar to that of Thorin's glowers.

"She is my sister," he states icily. "Whether or not we are bound by ceremony holds no importance. She is not just some woman. She may be part of the Company, but above all else she is my sister and I will care for her as if we were related by blood." Fili gives him a quick slap on the shoulder and a tight look. Kili looks at him and then away to correct himself, "I mean: She is **our** sister. Oin may tend to her, but we will help in any way we can."

There is a momentary silence in which the Company is entirely stunned. Such a declaration amongst dwarrow is no small thing; especially coming from the heirs of Erebor. If Tahna weren't already under Thorin's protection by contract, she most certainly would be now. The boys have forgone all forms of traditional binding in favor of a bold declaration; it doesn't hold all the weight, but the words themselves are binding. While Fili and Kili are technically full grown dwarrow, they are not currently the heads of their own household; that duty falls to Thorin. This means as their "sister" she is now bound to the Line of Durin for the rest of her life and it is Thorin's duty to see that she is looked after.

Thorin is both startled and angry of his nephew's sudden possessiveness of the ranger. When did he miss the strength of this bond? He knows that the three are close, but it is surprising to find that they hold her so close to their hearts. It angers him that while the ranger has proved herself time and time again his nephews are foolhardy enough to accept someone into the royal family they hardly know. Under normal circumstances it's a dwarf that is adopted by the family and only after a couple of decades. This is entirely unprecedented, not to mention the fact she had hidden her gender from discovery…

"You would accept someone who lied to you into the Line of Durin?" Thorin asks angrily. He is not angry about the choice itself, seeing as Tahna is a special case. He knows Tahna's good intentions and doesn't mean to imply her unworthy of such honors, but his nephews don't realize how accepting that kind of behavior could damage their honor and reputation. His nephews should know better than to take such things for granted.

"Lied? What did she lie about?" asks Kili cautiously.

"Is not clear to you that she was disguising the fact that she is a woman?" The dwarrow lord asks with a frustrated growl. What is wrong should be the obvious part…

"She may not dress like the average human female, but she didn't lie to us. If anything it is our own fault for not approaching her about it in the first place," says Kili with the utmost conviction. "When I asked her if she was a woman directly she told me she was. There was no lying." By this time Dwalin, Dori, and Bifur return from their patrol and are listening intently.

"It's not as if she was hiding it," adds Bilbo suddenly.

"What?" asks Thorin.

"Well…I uh…um…I don't mean…"stutters the hobbit. He doesn't want to sell out the others for knowing before hand, but he opens his mouth without really thinking it through. He doesn't want to look like a complete idiot, but he has certainly stepped in it now. However, with Bofur being the wonderful friend he is comes to Bilbo's rescue.

"All of us knew before this point that she was a woman, Thorin," says the miner. At those words, Thorin's eyes widen and look over the faces of his company, forgetting the issue with his nephews quickly. He can't understand how the rest of his company already knew without dropping some sort of hint or indication that they are aware. Most of them wear a guilty expression or they don't look him in the eye at all. Dwalin just shrugs at him as he already made his stance on the matter clear. Bofur then continues, "It doesn't matter to us that she's a lass instead of a lad. She is a ranger, a valuable member of this company, and a friend; that's all that really matters."

"How? How could all of you have known? And then not say anything?" Thorin says in a surprised breath. He isn't really hurt because he did the same to them once he learned about Tahna. However, the surprise that not one of them spoke up is genuine; it would have saved him from a lot of frustration in the end.

With a sigh Bofur launches into the explanation as to how all of them discovered the truth. Nori wears a smirk as he claims to be the first of the company to figure it out. Thorin is truly surprised that Bilbo figured it out very quickly as well; in fact it was he that tipped off of the others. The dwarf lord feels quite the fool when he realizes that Tahna is the reason why he bathed and made water separate from the rest of the company. Hobbit privacy indeed, he thought as he glares at the grey wizard. There is no doubt in Thorin's mind that the wandering wizard had known all along about their ranger.

The other small details such as the Sheppard's Purse, which he overlooked, were obvious indicators to the others. It is a little sad that this escaped his notice when he watched her, but he thought it a common food among men. How was he to know that women used it to halt their…cycles? Kili adds his own experience about asking her directly to which she had answered him honestly. Shortly afterward he told his brother what had transpired. Although when Gloin confesses to an unfortunate walk in on the lady while she was washing her clothes and armor, Thorin could sympathize; though his encounter was far more revealing. The memory alone brings a slight flush to his cheeks and he hopes to avoid his own confession, but Fili has other ideas.

"When did you finally realize, uncle? You were suspicious for so long," asks Fili.

Before another word can be said, Dwalin bursts out into laughter so hard he falls over himself. The sight is so foreign that Gloin asks aloud if he has been possessed. As his laughter subsides the company slowly loses interest, but then they wait for Thorin's answer. Dwalin watches his face eagerly with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, waiting to see how he would either get himself out of this or embarrass himself beyond belief.

Thorin does his best to ignore the heat creeping on his cheeks. Then taking a page out of Tahna's book so to speak, he answers, "In Rivendell I found her much like Gloin did. However, she thought me an intruder and attacked me. When she realized her mistake and stood down, I confronted her about it."

The rest of the company accepts that answer and doesn't question further, but Dwalin continues to watch his friend with a knowing look. Thorin glares back in hopes of making him cease, but it only puts a large smug grin on the son of Fundin's face. He looks over at Balin who has not once made comment or acknowledgement about the situation. The elder dwarf just looks at Tahna's unmoving form with a sorrowful gaze. Thorin hasn't seen Balin like this since the aftermath of Azanulbizar. He knows that Balin puts a lot of faith in the ranger and he may have been upset to discover that she is female, but sadness is not what he expected. Amidst his observation of Balin, the company continued to talk amongst themselves and he returns in the middle of a conversation.

"All except for Dori, of course," laughs Nori. "He might have lost his head if he had known."

Dori's face scrunches up with indignation. "I'll have you know that I knew for quite a while," Dori retorts. At that Nori and Ori both look at their brother incredulously. It is a little surprising that the master of propriety, Dori, would allow such a rouse to continue. Dori can see the question in everyone's eyes so he answers, "I saw her with her mask down before the trolls. It took a couple of times to confirm it; that's why I was giving her tea when I woke her up for watch."

Now Nori crosses his arms, "So when I covertly avoid the truth I get the lecture of a lifetime, but when she does it she gets a cup of tea. I'm your brother. Where is the fairness in that?"

"That's just it. You're my brother and I expect more from you! And because it usually involves the fact that you stole something!" replies Dori snappily.

"Well for now let's focus on getting the lass taken care of," cuts in Oin. He looks over to the two boys, "If you two wanna help grind up calendula flowers and comfrey leaves under Bilbo's instruction it's a good place to start. I'm going to work on creating a mixture of fennel and garlic for Thorin's lacerations. As for the rest of you I highly recommend that you wash up in the river, you all reek of goblin."

With some mild grumbling, the rest of the company head for the water to clean themselves. Bombur and Bofur remain with the cooking pot, planning to wash after they eat. The boys quietly follow the hobbit's instruction as they grind the plants between two stones. Oin is similarly quiet in producing his own healing mixture. Gandalf watches with intermittent puffs from his pipe as Thorin continues to follow the rise and fall of the ranger's chest.

Oin focuses on Thorin first. The worst of his injuries being the laceration on his head, the healer smears the pungent smelling mixture on Thorin's temple. The open wounds on his chest from the warg's teeth receive the same treatment. While he avoided breaking any ribs, everything along the left side of his body is mottled with purple bruises. There is a limited supply of clean bandages so he only takes one for the chest wounds and leaves the rest for Tahna.

When Oin moves to look over her, Thorin follows with him to see the full extent of the damage inflicted. However, the physician tells him to get some food with the others and leave him to his work. At first Thorin is angry, but then he realizes that while his nephews have declared her their sister, he has not laid any claim to her. Therefore, Thorin has to do as Oin asks and walks back to the fire. Balin and Dwalin can see his return as he settles stiffly on one the stone seats near the fire and move to join him. The dwarf king sits near the wizard, giving him a vantage point to oversee her healing from a distance.

Fili takes up a position holding her head in his lap while Kili and Oin remove her tunic. To Thorin it is obviously not good as both his nephews' faces tighten. The mender hands Kili one mixture to apply to her chest where the Great Goblin struck her. Thorin is surprised to see the focused look in Kili's eye; unmoved by the fact that scant inches from where he is working are Tahna's womanly assets. Oin takes his other mixture, rubbing it into the cuts on her neck, arm, and hands. Kili moves from the chest to her back and eventually back up to her throat. The graying dwarf wraps her neck, arm, and hands in bandages.

After that Oin tells the princes to join their uncle by the fire. They look like they want to protest, but then the healer snaps at them in Khuzdul. When their faces turn a little pink they reluctantly leave him and ranger. They take up the spots next to the wizard and stare into the fire as Oin covers her with a cloak. He looks up to give them a glare as he moves to block her from view while he removes her trousers. Thorin hesitates for a moment before averting his eyes.

"Dinner's ready," says Bofur.

Those who are still in the river scramble out at the call for food, while those who rest around the fire are quickly served their portion. On their way back to camp they glance over at Oin and Tahna, but once they realize what is going on, they avoid looking in that direction altogether. They eat in relative silence, awaiting the healer's final assessment. When Oin did approach the fire, Fili and Kili exchange a nod and the eldest leaves to stay with Tahna.

"So how is she?" asks Thorin anxiously. No one saw fit to comment on his concern, as everyone is just as worried.

"Mostly severe cuts and bruises; the worst are on her hands and back. She'll look purple for the rest of the week. She is also weak from blood loss," he states. Bombur hands him a bowl of stew, but he doesn't dig in right away.

"It didn't look that bad," says Ori fearfully.

"That's because she has also started her monthly bleed, but with her holding it off with Sheppard's Purse it is making her condition worse. She overestimated how long she was using it," he says with a sigh. "Tomorrow we will look to see if there is anything we can use to combat the symptoms. I have no doubt in my mind that her fatigued condition in the goblin tunnels was caused by her anemia."

He takes one bite of stew then adds, "I cannot tell about the condition of her concussion. It worries me the most. Head wounds are such tricky things…there is still a chance she may not wake up at all." At that a couple dwarves gasp and Thorin unconsciously clenches his hands.

"Do not fret," pipes in Gandalf confidently. "I took care of that ailment when I saw to her. She will most certainly awaken." He looks up at the summer sky as it stains orange with the setting of the sun. "It is just a matter of when."

"She's awake!" shouts Fili. Everyone in the camp can scarcely believe the timing, but Kili and Thorin both rush over to see hazy golden eyes looking back up at them. In Thorin's mind there is no sight more beautiful in this moment; his prayers have been answered. The others gather around behind the sons of Durin with smiles on their faces, hopeful that their friend will be alright.

She gives them a small smile, but when she opens her mouth to say something she chokes and starts coughing. Kili is quick to bring his water skin to her face and assisting once the coughs subside. She drinks heartily, a couple trails of water escape from her lips. Kili removes the pouch and waits. After she swallows, the smile returns and she says:

"What's the matter? You all look worried," she says with a rasp. The cheers from the company echo off the valley walls. They lean in to offer her their well wishes for her recovery and compliments for her bravery on the cliff. She just smiles back at them for the most part, but after a while she starts trying to sit up. Thorin stops her quickly.

"Relax, Tahna. You must rest," Thorin commands.

"I will, but…my arms…they hurt," she grunts.

Gandalf lifts the cloak to see that magic from before has accumulated again. He is swift to move as he leaves his staff and picks her up himself to take her to the water. Naturally, the entire company follows with barely a foot of space between them and the wizard. Just as his feet are covered in water he sets Tahna down on her knees. She puts her hands into the riverbed, bringing the water inches above her wrists. Gandalf backs up onto the dry shoreline and watches her. She doesn't waste any time starting.

"Nanye i-cilme," she starts. The water around her hand immediately stills. "Nanye i-nar." The water crawls up one of her hands and begins to profusely release steam. "Nanye i-nixie." The other hand is covered now too, but instead drops pieces of solid ice back into the water. "Nanye coi." At this the water begins to glow softly, moving up and down her arms in a caressing fashion. "Nanye firie." The glow darkens slightly and begins to move faster. The production of ice and steam is increasing every second. It is uncomfortable for Thorin to watch Tahna shiver as the steam burns her face and the ice freezes her legs. "Inye selma cuitaye qualye." The water stills and waits for its next command. "Inye selma avas calalda ta nuru enta ala." The water slips off of her arms like a wet rag and disappears down the river. The company waits a moment, having been silently mesmerized by the sight they just witnessed.

However, as Tahna tries to stand and stumbles, Oin overcomes his fear of her magic to tend to his patient. The others quickly follow, helping bring her back to the warmth of the campfire. The physician leans her up against a log situated near the fire. Fili and Kili bring over the cloak that was used to cover her earlier and Gandalf's staff. The healer unwraps the bandages to add more poultice to the cuts on her hands, afraid that by putting them in the water would become infected, only to find that the wounds are gone.

"The water healed my hands and arms entirely to get to the magic in my blood," Tahna explains. "It can be handy sometimes. At least now I won't be completely useless."

"Enough of that," growls Thorin sharply. Oin wraps her in the cloak to try and help maintain her body heat. Bombur brings bowl of the stew for her to eat. Thorin takes it from him first and hands it off to her gently. She flinches a little, like the bowl is too hot, so he makes sure that she can hold it on her own before retracting his hands. It's hard to see, but the relief Thorin feels at seeing her functioning is very pronounced.

"So your name is actually Tahna?" asks Bofur gently. The ranger answers with a nod as she shovels more food into her face. There is a consensus around the camp that name suits her and general comments about her remarkable capabilities. However, everyone agrees that it's too late for questions now. So with the promise of tomorrow everyone begins to make for their own sleeping rolls. In the chaos only a few of the dwarves managed to grab one, so some are sharing or going without entirely.

When Tahna finishes her bowl she hands it back to Thorin who hands it off to Bofur. The dwarf gives her a small smile before taking it to the river for washing. The dwarf lord looks back to see that Oin is sound asleep, though he recalls the directions to make sure that she is warm throughout the night. So with no one to reprimand him, he takes up the ranger in his arms once more. He settles her on a sleeping roll between Fili and Kili. Once she's down he adjusts her cloak-made-blanket when he sees her face looks worried. Tahna is looking all around, like something might over take them from behind the log she had been resting on. She looks up at Thorin with a fearful glance.

"We are several days ahead of Azog now. Dwalin himself checked the perimeter. We are safe for now and we need to rest. We'll talk further in the morning, Tahna," he says gently. When he sees his nephews are breathing evenly he risks brushing over the scar on her chin; the one that leads to her lips. "You are safe tonight, Tahna. We all are."

She gives a small nod of her head before her eyes fall closed once more. Thorin glances around to see that the rest have fallen asleep. Dwalin is sitting up, which means he fell asleep unintentionally. Unsurprising with the days they have had, but someone has to keep watch. Movement from the corner of his eye draws him to the wizard who is puffing away at his pipe once more.

"I will keep watch this night, Thorin Oakenshield," states the wizard.

"All night?"

"Yes," says Gandalf with a strain in his voice. He pulls out Tahna's hilts once more to examine them again. "I'm afraid I have much to think about and I shall need the time the night provides."

Thorin is hardly going to turn down his offer and takes up a spot by trio. He is laying opposite them so that all of their heads are lined up beneath him. He hears a shift and he looks down to see Tahna is still awake. She is looking back up at him with a sad look, but before he can comfort her she drags herself up. Now that she is closer to him she easily takes hold of his hand before settling back down. He stares at her for a little while. Mostly at her small hand grasping his and when she begins to breath evenly his heart swells uncontrollably. If it is comfort she seeks he would provide.

He pulls himself closer to her to prevent any strain on her arm and finally falls asleep himself; completely unaware of the wizard watching him from the fire.

* * *

My (Horrible) Translations:

Thoronen – my eagle

mirer – precious one

gornilen – my valiant one

iellen – my daughter

sadril – loyal one

adar – father (I know that the one everyone uses is ada, but adar is more proper so yeah)

namadith – little sister

nadad – brother

Nanye i-cilme - I am the Chosen

Nanye i-nar – I am the fire

Nanye i-nixie – I am the ice

Nanye coi – I am life

Nanye firie – I am death

Inye selma cuitaye qualye – I live and I will die

Inye selma avas calalda ta nuru enta ala – I will go forward with your light and die another day

 **Goodness so many translations. Ugh...**

 **For those of you who are looking forward to Beorn's, don't worry so am I!**


	25. Dawn's New Light

**Hey everyone. Sorry that this has taken so long, I didn't mean to make you wait, but lots of things are going wrong right now. It is official - I have moved to Texas, however the amount of financial insecurity I have is absolutely terrifying and I will be working my butt off to fix this problem. I'm suffering from a massive amount of anxiety and that makes it really hard to write, but hopefully with my job and support from my family I can make it through. Also let me know what you think about the story so far.**

 **Anyway! Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you for reviews. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **angel897, Guest, lizaed** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 **Nevermorea –** _I know we haven't chatted in a while, but I want to know how you are feeling and if your injury healed well. Also you promised me a review of the new Spiderman movie when it came out. Been too busy to start the fics you sent my way recently, but I will try to get to them eventually. I hope you really enjoy this part._

 **Kirgy5040yahoo –** _I'm grateful to hear you like Tahna and the way I am taking the story so far. As for the Battle of the Five Armies…you're going to hate me, then love me, then hate me, and love me when the end comes (I hope). I have been meaning to work both on my other Thorin story as well as my Caspian one I'm editing and expanding. Blessings and best wishes to you as well._

 **Chica90** _-_ _I'm glad you're enjoying her more tender side. I feel like certain writers make their characters either cry babies that need coddling or stone cold. Thankfully that doesn't happen much in this fandom, but I wanted to capture something in between. Texas was...interesting. Sadly things didn't go as planned so far, but I learned a lot about the area and I think I have a couple ideas of where I want to live. Stirring of the Leaves was really good._

 **lizziecats –** _Thank you so much! Your review made my entire week. I'm so happy that you like how I'm bring the story together as well as my OC. I love to write and this is a great outlet for me. I put in effort to make it an interesting and fulfilling story because that's what I like to read. I want others to enjoy this story and follow it until the end so I hope you enjoy every chapter and I will make an effort to be more on time. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again for the review. I really appreciate it!_

 **I've decided to do a story recommendations corner for my lovely friends here on FF. Since you're here for Thorin/OC I will only recommend those unless otherwise requested. I have a few good Fili, Kili, and Dwalin ones on file. I really wish there were more Bilbo/OC, but meh. I will do two incomplete so you can follow along with the journey and one complete for those who are impatient = (Me…Most days…)**

 **Kindle-the-Stars: Stirring the Leaves. *Complete***

 **Syvania: There is a Time. *Incomplete: Updated: 02/24/17**

 **Lady Sophia of Arda: King of Ash and Fire. *Incomplete: Updated: 09/15/17**

* * *

When I wake up light is only beginning to emerge in the sky. The fear that Azog would catch up with us must be too strong for me to sleep long. I do not move, however, as Fili and Kili have made a comfortable amount of warmth. Both my arms are sore from healing ritual, but one is stiffer than the other. Glancing up, I can see my hand still intertwined with Thorin's. I can feel the coolness of the metal from his rings. I don't move in fear of waking them, but I do take the time to admire Thorin's rings. One is a twice wrapped gold piece with a series of dwarf runes on them and the other is a silver and black with a block design that I nearly lost myself in tracing.

A shifting noise by the fire draws my attention away from Thorin. Gandalf has his back to me as he continues to stoke the fire. He doesn't seem to notice that I have awoken. Glancing around, I can see all the others are still asleep. I'm not sure whether I should announce my presence or not, but after only a moment of looking at the wizard's back it would seem that I didn't have much choice.

"Why don't you join me by the fire?" he asks quietly. "There is much we need to discuss."

I don't bother pretending like I don't know what he's talking about. However, I do find moving to join him difficult. Thorin's hand is tightly wrapped around mine so it takes several small tugs to render myself free. I move Fili's arm from my side and sit up. I crush a strangled noise in my throat as I feel the strain of my body from the days before. After taking a moment to recapture my breath I manage to move towards Gandalf and the fire, along with the cloak I had used through the night. As I sit I can feel the warmth of the fire seeping into my skin. For a few moments we don't speak, just listen to the crackling of the newborn fire and the morning birds. My eyes focus on Gandalf as he moves to hand me something. Looking at his hands I can see my hilts in hands. I check the back of my belt, as if not believing they are in his hands. I'm surprised I didn't notice them missing before. I take them back from him cautiously.

"I was not aware you were trained to use such magic," he says subtly.

"It's not something you go around telling everyone," I reply. I wonder what is going through his head as he looks me over. Wizards are strange creatures and I cannot begin to imagine what someone with such immense age might think of this situation.

"You will forgive me in assuming that it is not self taught," he says as he lights his pipe. Never once did his eyes leave mine. "You must have learnt it from somewhere."

I allow a small silence to permeate the air before answering, "Magic can be taught anywhere so that is irrelevant, but I was taught by someone." The grey pilgrim makes a small hum of encouragement. "After my father and I were chased out of Gundabad I fell through a crack of ice and broke my legs. It was so cold and I couldn't move; I thought I was going to die down there. However, it was only a day or so later that a blue wizard appeared."

"One of the blues?" whispers Gandalf with wide eyes. "Who was it?"

"Morinehtar."

For a moment he's silent before asking, "When did you see him last?" I can tell he is eager to hear my answer, but I also see cautiousness in his gaze.

"I last saw him a couple of decades ago…I don't know if he's still there."

He gives a gentle nod of understanding before a few more moments of silence fall between us. I don't know his reasons for inquiring about the blue wizard it gets me thinking. I can't help reminiscing about the first day I spent with my teacher.

* * *

 _Morinehtar woke me on the first morning and took me into one of the mountain tunnels that had been carved by the ice. There he offered me food, which I ate greedily. Then he provided me with clothes mean for someone at least three years my senior, allowing me to leave the rags I have been wearing the past year behind. Once we finished he bid that I follow him. He led me to a large chamber with ice coating every inch of the walls. There is no sign that anyone had carved the ice to its current form, but it appeared to naturally create several facets. None of them were clear enough to see my face, but my blurred image shifted amongst the many planes. The ceiling rested at a height similar to the walls of Imelkane. I didn't sense the magic there at first, the exhaustion too overwhelming to notice something like that. Morinehtar approached a large structure on one side of the room. It is a large block of ice with three hilts sitting on top of it. Not sure what I should do I remained in the center of the room, awaiting Morinehtar's instructions._

" _Would you like to see your gift?" he asks. He gestures to the hilts, waiting for me to come towards him; but I can't bring myself to. I'm confused about what he's talking about. "It's alright, Tahna. Just come take a look."_

 _After a few more moments I move forward cautiously. I don't know what to make of what he's trying to give me. Once I'm beside him he pushes me closer to the ice and begins to explain._

" _Once I was given a very important task along with my brother," he begins. "But we failed in our mission and were almost consumed by the great shadow. It is only by the grace of our maker, Orome, that we were brought back from the edge and were given a new purpose."_

" _Who is Orome?" I asked curiously._

" _Orome is one of the Valar. You may know him as Tauron," he answers._

" _The Hunter?" I feel optimistic in my answer. I recall that name from our prayers in the Halls of Imelkane and in the Library of the Citadel._

" _Yes. Each of the Valar have many names. I would teach them to you if you wish it."_

" _Maybe later. You were telling a story."_

" _Right, right," he chuckles as he continues. "Our new purpose is to prepare a very special person for a greater destiny." I made a face at that and he clearly noticed. "What sort of a face is that?"_

" _You aren't talking about me are you? I think you made a mistake."_

" _How so?"_

" _I'm not very special," I state. "My parents weren't very happy with me because I couldn't save them. I couldn't get away from the orcs. I'm not strong or smart so it can't be me."_

 _He kneels down so he can look me in the eye with a sad smile. "You know I have a cousin who once believed that it is the small deeds of ordinary people that have the powers to keep darkness at bay. I for one agree with him. However, I hardly think you are entirely ordinary yourself. Did you know that Vana, Orome's wife, is the one responsible for the birth of your kind?"_

 _I shook my head. Everything I had read about our people's origin were encapsulated in mystery. We appeared rather suddenly over the last few hundred years. As we were human it is natural to assume that Eru was responsible for our birth. There were very few differences between us and other humans we never thought much else of what made us different._

 _He gives me another smile, "This practically makes us cousins; I'll have you know." The statement draws a small smile from me and he takes it as a sign to continue._

" _Whether or not you are special is a subjective question. What you think is special may differ from what I consider special. However, this is not a measure of whether you are special or not, but if you are worthy," my breath hitches a little as I remember my mother's final words. "These are very special swords, Tahna. Made by hands so that only the worthy may use them."_

" _But shouldn't you wait for whoever is supposed to have them?"_

" _He shall not be ready for them for many years yet," he says. "And I shall not remain much longer in this world. He shall need a teacher and it is my hope that it will one day be you." The surprise must have been apparent on my face because he pushes the point. "I have been waiting here for a very long time, Tahna, for someone to come along to carry these to the one who will one day unite the whole of Middle Earth. I have no doubt in my mind that it is meant to be you."_

 _I look over at the hilts and consider his words carefully. I have nothing now. My parents and my home have been erased; leaving me only an uncle and a cousin who would have me stay at home for the rest of my life. My uncle was outspoken about his dislike of my training and living under his roof he would see to it I never held another sword; I knew it was out of love, not spite, but I couldn't live like that._

" _How will I find him when it's time?" I ask._

" _It will be revealed to you in time, but worry not for there are many years to pass before that time comes," he says with absolute certainty._

" _Then what do I do while I'm waiting?"_

" _We will train together as you learn to master this magic, then you will return to the world and continue to learn what I cannot teach you," he says. I continued to stare thinking over his offer. My decision solidifies as I think about how I could use this to defeat the evil that has torn my entire life asunder._

" _I'll do it. When do we begin?"_

" _Right now. Take hold of this hilt," he says gesturing to the stone one on the right. With baited breath I take hold of it. For a moment, when I took hold it felt too solid to ever move, then it suddenly gave away under my hand. I shout in fear that I had broken the sword._

" _What's the matter?" asks_

" _I broke the sword!" He quickly starts to laugh at me, but I hardly think it's funny. Just as I was about to scold him for not acknowledging the importance of what I did, he cut in._

" _It is not broken," he pacifies. "As I said before these are special. These blades are within the hilts." My eyes widen in wonder as I turn it over in my hands, trying to get used to the weight. The wizard is looking down on my with a smile on his face. "Now the other one," he encourages. I reach for the gold one in the middle, but he stops me in the middle of the motion and shakes his head._

" _Not that one," he says._

" _Why not?"_

" _You are not yet ready for that one. It is by far the most powerful of the three. It will take time and practice before you will be ready for this one. Take the other," he says._

 _I take him at his word and grab for the other hilt, which comes out just as quickly as the other had. I hold one in each hand and look up at Morinehtar who is appraising me silently. He looks pleased, but it is a little hard to tell with him. At the base I can see where the blades would go, but I don't see how anything could come out of it._

" _What now? How do I get them to work?" I ask._

" _Now we begin your training. The first lesson shall be your easiest and that is rage…"_

* * *

"Tahna?"

At first I think Gandalf is trying to get my attention, but he is not looking at me. That's when I notice a hand on my arm. I look up at the owner to find Bilbo staring at me, concerned. I smile lightly at him, but I don't think it reaches my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo. What did you say?" I ask tenderly.

He frowns deeply, "I asked how you were feeling."

"Mostly just stiff and sore; it nothing anyone else here isn't feeling, but I thank you for asking Bilbo," I say. He doesn't look entirely convinced.

"Oin says you have anemia. That will make healing more difficult. Before we move we need to find you something that will ease your ailments," he says. I blush a little knowing that my anemia is my own fault. I never should have let myself go for so long on the herbs. I feel guilty that my own forgetfulness has cost us time.

"A very wise notion, my friend," I smile back, "One that I would hardly ignore. As I recall red meat, raisins, and cranberries are helpful. The first should be easy enough to find, but I don't know about the other two…"

At this Bilbo perked up somewhat, happy to be able to help, "Spinach and tomatoes are good for that as well. If I look around nearby I'm sure I could find something." He scans the tree line as if there is might be some growing within the line of sight. I can tell he is eager to help me, but I won't let him go running off into danger just because he was optimistic.

"Well if you're going out to find some you should take someone else with you. I…would feel uneasy if you went alone," I reply. I may not be as on edge as last night, but it is simple common sense not to travel alone. We are still in goblin country and it is well known that mountain lions, though rare still inhabit these hills.

"Agreed, but who should go with me? I don't want to bother anyone," says Bilbo shyly. I can see that almost everyone is still sleeping. This makes me wonder: why on Earth is Bilbo up before everyone else? Had he truly been so worried about me? It seems that I have caused a great deal of trouble.

"I will go with you."

We turn to see that Thorin has finally wakened. However, despite his determined proposal I can clearly see that he is just as stiff as I am. His dwarven strength and durability has been well and fully tested. If Oin were awake he would no doubt threaten to club his king over the head with his staff for even suggesting such a thing. Gandalf saw much the same as I and is not afraid to make mention of it.

"You are hardly in any condition to draw a bow, let alone hunt, Thorin Oakenshield," says the old wizard, chidingly. He walks stiffly towards the fire and I can clearly see his side is flinching every time he takes a step. I can almost feel the pain myself, every time he moves.

"I am well enough," he protests as he tries to hide the pain he's experiencing. I know he is stubborn and will try to accompany Bilbo regardless. Whether it is because he feels he owes Bilbo or because he is trying to prove that he is well enough to the rest of his men, doesn't mean he can go like this. As he approaches the fire, I turn towards him.

"Thorin, you and I are still recovering from our wounds. I implore you to rest. I dislike it as much as you, but we will not heal well if we force ourselves to continue." He looks as though he wants to argue further, but I cut him off once more. "Please, Thorin," I beg.

He stares me down long and hard. I keep eye contact in the hopes that he will see my genuine concern for him. After a few moments his eyes soften and he stands next to me, placing his large hands over my shoulders.

"Are you well?" he asks.

"Better than yesterday, I assure you," I laugh. When I see a small smile in return I continue, "Just as I was telling Bilbo, I am stiff and sore more than anything. I'm sure everyone else feels much the same."

"No one else has anemia, Tahna. You must rest in order to recover. We will see to your care," he replies tenderly. It is strange to see Thorin so gentle, but it makes my heart swell with happiness that he would share this part of himself with those of us who are not his kin.

"I know you will, but you are hurting too. Any among our company would do the same as what you are trying to do for me. Let those more able bodied take care of us; come join me at the fire instead," I say in hopes of distracting him from the task he intended to undertake. After a moment he nods and takes up a spot on the log beside me.

"Now what about our collection party?" asks Bilbo.

"I'll come with ya," offers Fili. He sits up with a stretch, bringing his sword with him. It's nice to see someone moving around with ease. He joins us by the fire as he adjusts his coat. "I know that protein is a good way to get the blood flowing so while Bilbo retrieves the…greenery I can find us some fresh meat."

Thorin looks like he's about to get up and join them again so I quickly say, "Take Dwalin with you." Thorin looks a little annoyed at my intervention, but says nothing. I glare back as if to remind him that we just had this conversation, but politely continue, "It's still safer to travel in groups of three."

"Easy for you to say," responds Fili as he walks over to the slumbering warrior. "You've never had to wake him up after a fight. He's probably still dreaming about it now." Exercising true caution, he picks up a stick that is meant for kindling and pokes Dwalin with it. His arm is as far from him as it would go, when Dwalin woke up with a battle roar and axe in hand. It was wise on Fili's part, but the reaction unfortunately woke the entire camp. Several members must have been having similar dreams because in an instant they grabbed their weapons.

"We need to find breakfast, Mister Dwalin," says Fili. "And you have been volunteered for duty. So let's get going." He tries to not make it look obvious, but he clearly does his best to separate himself from Dwalin with the distance the camp provides.

"Ya may be my prince, lad, but you're still too young to be giving me orders," answers Dwalin drowsily. Realizing there is no immediate danger he lowers his weapon. He closes his eyes again, as though he was trying to return to sleep. It also seems that many of the others agreed with him and tried to return to their own slumber.

"Dwalin, go with them," orders Thorin. With that Dwalin opens a single eye towards Thorin. A moment of silence passes before Dwalin stands. He stretches after sleeping upright all night; I recall how uncomfortable that can be after a couple rough nights of my own.

Dwalin takes a hearty gulp of water from his water skin as he stands near the fire. He watches as Bilbo and Fili collect some gear for their outing, silent for a moment before getting a little closer to the pair. He twirls his axe in his hands and addresses Fili, "You will pay for that jab when we spar next."

Fili pales slightly and starts to help Bilbo collect what he needs while keeping the hobbit between himself and Dwalin. A small smile breaks out over my face at the humor of the situation and when I turn to thank Thorin I see that he is watching me intently. I have never seen him like this before. I am used to his expression of puzzlement and consternation, but this feels different somehow, more tender. I open my mouth to ask him what is on his mind when Oin intervenes.

"Let me have a look at those wounds, aye?" He asks, but it's not really a question as he removes the cloak from my person.

I shudder at first not realizing how cool the air has become. It seems strange that though this is still summer it is touched with cold. Whether spring never left or autumn is early I cannot tell, but winter will surely be upon us sooner than we think; as will Durin's day. I feel a warm hand on my arm, sending goosebumps across my skin. I look over to see Thorin watching me worriedly. I send him a small smile to reassure him. He looks over at Oin.

"Do we have to do this now? It's still cold out and I thought we are supposed to be keep her warm," says Thorin inquisitively.

"So you only listen to my instructions when it concerns her?" asks Oin suggestively. The silence amongst the dwarves as they worked on their tasks is hardly subtle. I see Thorin's nose beginning to turn red at the statement, embarrassed that it is apparently true. I'm not immune either as my face heats up a little. There is a giddy feeling in my stomach, but I refuse to investigate such matters right now.

"I doubt dwarves often experience anemia. I have no doubt that Thorin is concerned from uncertainty with his own lack of experience more than anything else," I defend. Oin just makes a noise of agreement as he looks over the wound on my neck. I glance over at Thorin to find him looking back at me with a strange look. It almost looks like he is about to smile, but his face is just a tad too tight it can't seem to take form. He looks away quickly so I instead turn to look at the mottled purple bruise across my chest; it is with relief though that the purple has begun to fade into a yellow color. It may be healing, but that color still looks sickening. I'm sure the bruises on my neck are much the same at the moment. I touch one of the bruises and pull my hand away with a hiss when it stings.

"Stop touchin' em," says Oin chidingly.

I quickly secede to his wishes and instead watch the rest of the camp as they begin their morning routine. Bombur and Bofur went to the river to collect water for boiling. We would drink our fill and fill our skins before we continued onward. Gloin was displeased that Gandalf had started the fire, as it is his specialty, but he did not complain long. He and Dori are tasked with setting up the stand so that they may boil the water over the fire. Nori and Ori are taking the time to mend some of the clothes that were damaged in the fire and the fighting. Mostly tunics and breeches from the looks of things; except for Bofur's socks which had distinctive holes in each pair. I don't think Bofur has ever had his socks mended, especially guessing by the smell if nothing else. Kili appears to keep falling asleep before he can fully wake up. It's only with Bifur's help that he stands and the pair with the assistance of Balin leave to check the perimeter once more.

"You seem to be healing quite nicely, considering the circumstances," says Oin. It brings your attention back to him. He places a large hand on your forehead to see whether a fever had set in. He shakes his head slightly as he pulls his hand back. "None of your wounds are infected and there is no sign of fever, but there is quite a chill about you lass. Stay warm by the fire and wrapped in the cloak. It will be better once we have some food in you. We can set off when it reaches noontime; by then the weather will be warm enough for us to travel further and you will have the easiest time moving."

"Thank you, Oin," I reply with a small smile. It's good to know that we can move forward soon. I worried that I had slowed the company down and it would lead to our capture. To know that we could move soon brought me relief. With Oin's examination over, Thorin helps me readjust the cloak as I settle once more near the fire.

"Your turn," says the healer as he turns towards Thorin. Thorin looks less than enthusiastic about his treatment. However, as he sheds his layers I hold them for him. I admire each layer I'm handed so as to not be distracted by Thorin's nakedness. I think that if I were to stare too long I would blush at the memory of him at Rivendell. I am particularly interested with his light chainmail. The compressed hexagon with the double ridge in the center feels smooth under my fingers. I draw patterns, hopping from one plate to the next. I'm only interrupted when Thorin throws his shirt over my hands. I look up only to see him smiling; it is a brilliant thing and beautiful. I cannot help return the smile as well. I look back down at the newest garb. It is a dark blue with dark etching along the collar. It is a dwarf rune I recognize; it means memory with the eternal lock around it. In its whole it means remembrance. It looks well-worn and though stained with sweat and blood, it appears comfortable.

"Miss Tahna?"

I look up to see that the others had returned victorious from their expedition. Bilbo's hands appear full as Fili and Dwalin carry a large buck into camp. There is a rousing cheer as Gloin and Fili set to dressing the deer. Bilbo hands some greenery to Bombur telling him to mix it into the meat. I can only recognize wild parsley among the herbs, but I trust Bilbo to know what he's doing. However, he brings me an armload of peaches and places them on top of Thorin's clothes.

"No luck with the cranberries or tomatoes; or the spinach come to think of it. Lucky for us there are a couple peach trees a little further back in the valley. They will have to do for now," says Bilbo sheepishly. I smile and prepare to thank him when he cuts me off again, "Bombur is going to season the meat with parsley, sage, and some nettle. Hopefully, that will be enough to set you on the path to getting well soon."

"Thank you for your help my friend," I say. "I have no doubt that this will hasten my recovery." I pick up peach and bite into the fuzzy skin, the sweet juice filing my mouth as though I had drunk the peach rather than eat it. The surprise causes me to cough after I swallowed the pulp of the fruit.

Bilbo slips in, grabbing some of the fruit and stating, "We have to save some of these. We don't know how long it will be before we find more." I nod and take another bite from the peach. As he walks off I look over to see Thorin staring at me once more. With a thick swallow I offer him the tasty globe. He looks between me and the fruit with a raised eyebrow. When he doesn't respond with words I bring the fresh food to my mouth and take another bite. This time I took more than I could chew and therefore had to lick my lips after swallowing. I finishes it hurriedly and toss the pit away. I place the rest of Bilbo's bounty in my satchel for later eating; I'm mostly trying to preserve space in stomach for some of the deer meat the dwarrow have managed to procure. It is not much longer that the other party returns from scouring the perimeter.

As they enter the camp Kili is the first to speak, "Thorin? Is something wrong with Tahna?"

My head instantly turns to look at Thorin once more. I catch him for a second where his gaze returns mine before he looks away. I feel warm in my face and butterflies in my stomach, but I rather not discern why; so I instead answer Kili's question.

"Thorin is just worried about the condition of my anemia," I state.

"Has it gotten worse?" asks Kili concernedly.

"No, I'm just cold is all," I answer. My heart jumps a little at the fact that this statement is actually a borderline lie. However, Kili doesn't seem to notice and no one else makes a comment. So Kili, true to form, takes Thorin's over coat from my hands and wraps it around me securely. Then he gives me his own overcoat and clips it to my shoulders.

"Well if Uncle is so concerned he should be ensuring your care," he says with joking manner. However, Thorin's face is absolutely thunderous at the insinuation. I feel it is borderline comical.

"I'm sure he would, but Oin is keeping him busy," I say just as Oin lifts his arm to check the bandages along his side. Kili accepts this answer with a nod. He gently pat my head like a child before returning to his brother's side. However, looking at Thorin I have a feeling that Kili had best watch his back for a couple days.

I feel something brush up against my other side and when I look over its Balin. I don't know why, but he looks so sad for some reason. Even the smile he wears is sad. I want to ask him about it, but he doesn't provide me with the chance.

"We have some hours yet before we leave so I hope you do not mind answering a few of our questions, lass," prompts the old warrior. Oin stands and declares Thorin clear of infection and being in good health. He heads over to Dori and Nori who are stitching up his cloak. Thorin looks like he wants to deflect the conversation, probably out of worry for my condition; but they have the right to know and I doubt there will be a much better time than now in upcoming days. I place my hand on his arm and shake my head.

"I know, Balin," I respond quietly, "Please…ask your questions." I hand Thorin back his tunic so that he may begin redressing as we wait.

"Then I shall start with what is on everyone's mind," he sighs. "Where did you get your powers, lass?" Everyone has quieted to hear my explanations with interest.

"That's the easiest one," I reply. "After I escaped Gundabad I fell through a large crack in the ice, which had been hidden in the snow. I shattered my legs in the fall so I lay there in an underground cavern for a day. That's when…" I look up to see everyone is hanging on my every word so I continue, "That's when a wizard appeared. One of blue wizards that Gandalf mentioned, his name is Morinehtar. He saved me and healed me. When I was well he offered me a gift – the magic swords. He taught me how to use them; how to fight with them."

"So you've had them the whole time?" asks Ori.

"And that's why you nearly took my hand off when I tried to take them," adds Nori.

"Yes, to both," I answer.

"Why didn't you use it against the trolls? Or the orcs?" asks Gloin.

"I would have if I had to, but the swords are a last resort. Naturally, such powerful magic has its draw backs," I answer. The dwarves nod remembering what happened in the river the other day. I pull the hilts out and hold them in front of me. I hold up the stone hilt first, "This is Frostfang. The ice blade can only be mastered if all emotions are put aside and you act on instinct alone. It doesn't matter if your friends are in trouble you must focus on the fight at hand or…"

"The ice breaks and the magic doesn't work," says Fili. "Like it did when the tree was falling; when you came to save us. You lost your concentration."

"Yes," I answer. "These blades require absolutes and nothing less. If you break concentration the blade dissipates and disperses."

"And the other one?" asks Dwalin. I can see him eyeing the piece of black metal in my hand with a cautious eye.

I lift it begrudgingly to show the others, "This is Dragonfire. I find the name rather ironic considering the journey we are currently undertaking. All of you have seen this power up close and personal, but bear in mind that this blade is forged with emotions; particularly anger and hate." It stung to admit that, but it has to be done. I wouldn't hurt them with lies.

"How does that work? Do you use your memories?" asks Dwalin.

"Not really; I guess not often. Memories fade over time. As more experiences take their place those much closer to the present override them. In order to keep the blade lit I most focus my anger against something or someone living. They appear in the flames like a shade, I attack using them as my main target while whoever is behind the shade receives it."

"…Is that what you thought you were seeing when you looked at me?" asks Dwalin.

"At first," I say, "She taunts me. And at first I thought you were her, but when you called out for Thorin, afraid that I had hurt him, it brought me back. My own fear that I had somehow hurt Thorin called me back and made the shade disappear."

"So you cannot tell friend from foe?" asks Kili in shock.

"Not if I let myself be consumed," I repose. I can see the shock on their faces so I work quickly to allay their fears, "It's never happened to me though…I…I always found a way to stop."

There is a momentary pause as the dwarves allow for this new information to sink in. To fill the space in between Bofur and Dori begin dealing out portions of breakfast. The silence isn't necessarily comfortable, but it isn't uncomfortable either. It's like returning home after a battle; there is something assuring that we are heading home with other survivors, but mourning our losses left it bittersweet. However, I'm brought out from my thoughts by Bombur as he hands me a rather full bowl of soup. I take the first bite and my mouth delights from the taste of fresh meat. Many moments pass with nothing, but slurps and greedy gulps filling the air.

"Is Azog the one who destroyed Imelkane?" asks Balin suddenly. I look up at him in surprise and return the spoonful of soup back into the bowl. "The Great Goblin said that he did and that he was the one that carried off your mother…Is it true?"

I could feel the weight of the company's gaze on my shoulders as the word fell out of my mouth limply, "Yes." There is both relief and heartache in this confession. They finally know the missing piece of the puzzle I had neglected to tell them which means there is no longer anything to hide; but at the same time the memory is strangely more painful now. As if by pretending that my enemy could be any orc is a half truth that I had begun to believe myself; now being reminded of the truth is somehow more painful than before.

"What happened, lass? What did that monster do?" asks Bofur with tenderness in his voice. His gentle manner only makes me all the more emotional and tears well in my eyes. Memories of Gundabad settle uncomfortably in my throat as I try to push them away. Before I could a stop it a few rogue tears fall and I set my soup aside to wipe them away. Bofur, the sweet dwarrow he is quickly adds, "Don't cry, lass. I'm sorry if I have upset you. You don't have to say if you don't want."

I release a small chuckle, "You haven't upset me. You have been nothing, but good to me regardless of all that I hid from you. You make me happy; happier than I have been in years. It's Azog, my memories, and myself…these things upset me. You have nothing to apologize for – not now and not ever."

I look down at my soup and cannot imagine stomaching it now; not for lack of Bombur's culinary skills, but the way my stomach churns now I would surely lose it. I leave the bowl on the log and instead move closer to the fire.

"Tahna, you must eat," says Fili in a rather fatherly tone.

I shake my head gently, "Not now. I feel as though I might retch. Though it has nothing to do with your food, Bombur, I promise you. I just…" I don't think that say I don't feel good will exactly calm a bunch of worrying dwarves.

"There is a chance that eating too much may aggravate your anemia. Perhaps it would be best to stop for now," says Oin. I'm thankful for Oin's intervention as I began to fear that others may have begun to force food down my throat in their attempts to help me.

"I have the peaches Bilbo brought me," I say as I send a smile towards the hobbit, "I will not go hungry I'm sure." I notice Bombur eyeing my portion of the soup, but saying nothing. I know it would be a shame to waste such a thing, and he is always hungry, so I pass it to him. "Here, Bombur. Such a soup shouldn't be wasted." With a large smile and a grateful nod he takes the soup gingerly from my hands.

I curl up once more by the fire; however, I no longer sit on the log, but the ground. Thorin's leg brushes by my shoulder as I sit. My inner turmoil has exhausted me and I already feel the need to return to slumber. I lightly grasp Thorin's leg as to not scare him.

"Please keep talking, I don't want to go to sleep," I beg.

"There is plenty of time for rest," says Oin. "A little more sleep wouldn't hurt you in the least. We have some time yet before we leave." I don't feel comfortable being unable to stay awake, but perhaps it would be better in the long run if I allowed myself to rest. Perhaps staying awake now would only make me more tired when we go to continue our journey.

A hand settles on my shoulders and I look up to see Thorin looking back at me intensely. "Rest," he says, "we shall wake you when it's time. We wouldn't leave you behind."

"I know," I say with a smile. I find a more comfortable angle along the log, leaning my head against Thorin's thigh. I fall asleep so quickly that I miss the looks the others send Thorin's way. I fell into sleep's embrace far easier than I thought it would be possible and thankfully no dark dreams plagued me.

* * *

Thorin looks down at the sleeping ranger, the urge to brush her hair with his hand is almost impossible to ignore. His fingers nearly ache from not doing it, but he couldn't do it in front of others. He knew that humans didn't value their hair the same way that dwarrow did, but he was raised to treat it as something intimate. That didn't mean he didn't want to, but it's not something you do without permission or with others watching. He's sure that his compatriots wouldn't appreciate his behavior while she was sleeping.

Thorin continues eating his breakfast without looking at the others. He knew that if he met their gaze, particularly those of his nephews' unwanted words would be exchanged. The King Under the Mountain isn't even sure how he would explain himself; this behavior isn't exactly typical. Luckily, it seems that much to her request the others continue to speak of other things.

"Now that we've seen her powers I'm not surprised she took down Gijak," says Gloin conversationally. "That bugger was as slippery as a snake. He was responsible for countless raids in Eriador. Men, dwarves, elves; it didn' matter to him. They called him the Soul Eater because he was never one for mutilation, but he would prop his victims 'round like they were still livin'. The people who discovered the bodies said their eyes were pale and soulless."

"Word also has it that he was Bolg's brother," adds Dwalin sinisterly. At that Thorin blanches slightly. Thorin had received word some years ago that Azog's son, Bolg had taken over the remaining orc forces in Moria. It left a knot in his stomach for days to know that Azog's line had also endured and rallied in his forefather's halls. It made him sick just thinking about the scum; however, he had not thought much more on the matter at the time.

"So she was hunting them before she met us?" asks Kili sadly.

"That would be my guess," says Balin. "I would not have imagined that a child of Imelkane would be brought to something as mindless as revenge." Thorin looks over, confused with his old friend. It seems so out of place that he would be so judgmental with any one, least of all her.

"And how is that so different from what we have undertaken?" asks Thorin.

At this Balin looks up with pride in his eyes, "We are reclaiming our homeland and the riches that rightfully belong to our people."

"I know we do not discuss it often, for we are still too far out, but what of the dragon?" the dwarf lord retorts.

"He may well be dead," responds the elder in kind.

"But he may not. And if he is not; if he is waiting in those caverns do you think that killing him will be self-defense? No, Balin. We will avenge all who have fallen and take revenge for the pain and suffering he brought down on us and all those we care for," states Thorin. "I'm sorry if the image of Imelkane's people is not as pure as you remember, but she is not like those you preserve in your memory. Her home has been lost, her family slaughtered – she has nothing Balin except revenge."

Balin's face softens and becomes sad once more, "You are right, Thorin. I just wish…Forgive me, but I suppose I was just caught up in the memory."

Dwalin and Thorin exchange a look. Dwalin appears just as clueless as Thorin for an explanation to his brother's current attitude. They both decide to leave it for another time. And thankfully Bilbo sees fit to add in his thoughts.

"What of that shadow? Gandalf, what sort of creature was that?" asks the hobbit somewhat fearfully.

"That was the Necromancer of Dol Guldur. He is in league with the Pale Orc and when he had sensed Tahna's imminent encounter with Azog, he intervened," says Gandalf with a tired huff in his voice. "It is likely that he will reappear again, especially as we draw closer to the Greenwood. However, he is still somewhat weak as his powers have limited range. This encounter might have drained him and given us the time we need to navigate the elven path quickly. All I can say is that Tahna is his target, if he does appear again, he will be after her."

The mere mention of the old fortress is enough to send a chill down Thorin's spine. That building, no matter how old or how decrepit it appeared was no doubt soaked to the stone with evil. It has been a symbol of the enemy for nearly two millennium. Thorin has only ever seen it at a distance when his people were forced to wander the Wilderlands, but it was enough to set his teeth on edge and a paranoia the likes of which he has never experienced since.

He looks down at the ranger's sleeping face, imagining the thing – this Necromancer – coming from that place. He supposed it was fitting, but at the same time it motivates him to become ever more vigilant. Once they reached the mountain and managed to slay the dragon she would be safe there, out of reach from his evil. With that thought he is ready to move, feeling as though time of another sort was running out. Not only is time slipping away before Durin's Day, but now so is the time before the shadow returned for Tahna.

"Everyone, finish your meal - noon is swiftly approaching. Break camp and prepare to move out. There are many more leagues to travel yet before we reach the mountain and even less between us and Azog. We must make haste," says Thorin.

With those words everyone works to eat quickly before breaking down what small gear they have. The stand over the campfire is the last to go as it cleansed the last batch of water to refill everyone's water skins. Those who were unable to bathe yesterday took their turn now, thankfully without much lollygagging. Oin checks Thorin and Tahna's bandages once more to ensure they would stay in place while they moved throughout the day. Thorin thought it rather humorous that Tahna didn't even stir while the healer looked her over; he has only known her as a light sleeper so it is nice to know she can sleep more deeply amongst the safety of her friends.

Dwalin, Gandalf, and Thorin look over the map once more; Gandalf claims that there is an ally nearby, but Thorin is hesitant. Gandalf will not say much about him other than his hatred of orcs. While Thorin would rather not go into an unknown person's care, there are not many options. So they locates path through the remaining peaks and foothills that will put them at the man's doorstep. Last minute provisions are collected and stored and before he knew it all the others are ready to leave. The only task left is to wake up Tahna. He nudges her shoulder gently, but she barely stirs.

"Tahna?" he asks. She seems to awaken slightly and a small gasp escapes her lips. "It's time to go."

At this she pulls herself upright. The slight wince on her face tells him that her soreness still has not subsided, but she gives him a small smile that jolts his heart. She rises and brings herself to her full height. Thorin usually found looking up to be an annoying necessity to communicate with other races, especially elves; but not for her. When he was looking up at her…it is almost like the same way he would look up at the top of Erebor. It is like looking up at something beautiful, something that felt like home.

"Ready," she says.

* * *

 **Next: Beorn, revelations, and a few more tears…**


	26. The Weight of the World

**Hey everyone. Work is working. Things are thinging. Life is going and these would be posted much more quickly if they stopped giving me 2-11pm shifts at work; can't really complain though. I hope all is well with you!**

 **Anyway! Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you to reviewers. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **angel897, Samm, Silversun XD** – _Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!_

 **Guest –** _I'm so glad you took a look at my story and more importantly that you enjoy it! I want the reader to have their own imagination work with my story to fill in the blanks I leave, but still following along this journey with this character as well as Tolkien's. As two the last two comments all I can say is keep reading! :)_

 **Wintry Leaves –** _I hope my last PM didn't aggravate you, I was enjoying our conversation. Regardless, thank you for your review and your consensus on language's importance in a story._

 **Nevermorea –** _I'm sorry to hear about your predicament in regards to your health, but I'm glad my last update made you happy. There should be a couple sad flashbacks, but then the sweetness will return…before I possibly destroy it in Mirkwood…BTW I'm sticking with my plan for Beorn with a little more drama added for shiggles._

 **I've decided to do a story recommendations corner for my lovely friends here on FF. Since you're here for Thorin/OC I will only recommend those unless otherwise requested. I will do two incomplete so you can follow along with the journey and one complete for those who are impatient = (Me…Most days…)**

 **CeffylGwyn: I've Seen Hell. *Complete***

 **Lystan: Destinies Entwined. *Incomplete: Updated: 03/10/17**

 **Vargavinter: Dwarf Gold (The Sobriety of Hemery Skinner). *Incomplete: Updated: 06/22/17**

* * *

We have done our best to try and keep a good pace over the last few days and now the safe haven Gandalf has promised us is near. However, with the howls of wargs filling the air it becomes apparent that they have finally caught up with us. Both Thorin and I have healed well; even now the only lingering effect is the fatigue.

I will not lie that there is temptation knowing Azog is so close and that I could attempt once more to take him down, but I know, in my heart, that I cannot leave my companions should they need me. Another howl splits the air and I can feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. We are hiding on a ridge, awaiting Bilbo's report about what he sees. I hate waiting, but at least the rocks provide some cover.

Ori kindly tries to offer me the last of the peaches. We are trying to remain silent so I mime to him by pointing at my nose and then the ridge. They would easily smell that amidst the mountain winds if they didn't already. He shyly acknowledges what I tell him and with a small nod, puts the peach away. I grasp his arm lightly and give him a smile before releasing him.

Looking around the landscape, I feel uneasy. If there was more ice I would almost say it looks like the hills surrounding Gundabad. Thankfully there are more trees and the weather is far more far despite the chill. I wish the memories would fade, but it is so hard to shake.

"How far is the pack?" asks Thorin. His question startles me as I didn't realize that Bilbo had returned. However, I join the others around him to hear what he saw.

"Not far – a couple leagues; no more," says Bilbo breathlessly. "But that's not all."

"Have the warg's picked up our scent?" asks Dwalin, not giving the poor man a minute to breathe.

"Not yet, but they will," says Bilbo dishearteningly. "But we have another problem."

"Did they see you?" asks Gandalf with concern.

"No, that's not it," responds Bilbo.

"There, what did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse," says Gandalf proudly. "Excellent burglar material." I shake my head a little at Gandalf's boast, but I must agree that no other hobbit would do for this job.

"Will you listen to me? Would you just listen!" says Bilbo pleadingly. "I'm trying to tell you there is something else out there." Something else? Isn't Azog bad enough? I look up at the sky for a moment hoping that the Valar can see the distain in my eyes; they just let us reach the house without facing yet another obstacle.

"What form did it take?" asks Gandalf. "Like a bear?"

"Y-yes!" says Bilbo, surprised. "But, bigger – much bigger."

"You knew about this beast?" asks Bofur. Surprisingly, the miner panics somewhat and suggests, "We should double back." I look over at him and I can see the fear on his face. Bombur looks even more scared. I wonder what's going on with our Firebeard friends, but I don't have long to focus those thoughts.

"And be run down by a pack of orcs?" asks Thorin rhetorically.

"We are near the house. It is not so far away now; we can take refuge there," says Gandalf urgently.

"You have evaded the question long enough wizard. The last time I left this to you we ended up as elven guests. Now, whose house is this? Are they friend or foe?" My worries aligned with Thorin. He has not spoken of this "friend" since we left our first camp at Carrock. While even Rivendell elves might be welcome in this situation, I'm not too sure about this one.

"Neither. He will help us or…he will kill us," says Gandalf solemnly. I glare at the wizard while the others fret silently. He really must relearn what a 'friend' is. Somehow I doubt that they want to kill you regardless of their mood.

"What choice do we have?" says Thorin with a huff.

A familiar loud roar sounded from over the ridge and made me flinch. It may have been a bear, but there is nothing that big, except for one. Could it be him? I could feel my heart racing in my chest. I look back at Gandalf, wondering as to what madness he has led us to now.

"None," he answers to Thorin's question. "We must move. Quickly, now."

* * *

We are running once more and the exhaustion still hits me. However, I can easily say this if far better than the running we did in the goblin tunnels. At least out here the air is far clearer than the infested hole in the mountain. It surprises me how quickly the scenery changes from the rocky slopes into fields of flowers. I didn't think that Gandalf was lying when he said the house was near, but I didn't realize it is so close. It makes me optimistic that we might make it.

I can see a large stream ahead and I intend to slow, but as if Gandalf read my mind he calls for us to hurry faster. Bifur, who is running next to me, shares a look with me, but we continue on. Gandalf has made the right call though, as we are quick to discover that the stream is much shallower than we anticipated. We run through it with little trouble and cross the remaining flat land into another small patch of forestry.

Just as we entered another roar from the bear startles us. Fili grabs my hand and pulls me ever forward. I run forward, but I am looking behind me as I notice that Bombur hasn't moved. Thankfully, Thorin is on top of it.

"Bombur, come on," says Thorin, as he grabs his companion's beard to pull him away for the tree line. My long legs give me a slight advantage, but the tiredness I feel keeps near the middle of the pack. Before long we immerge from the wooded area and end up in a patch of grass lands.

"To the house!" shouts Gandalf. "Run!" At first I was going to yell at him about what house, but then I look up. Sure enough there is a house, well blended in the forest behind it. The roof looks like part of the treetops. The walls look like ruins, despite being whole. It is so well hidden I wonder how Gandalf even knew it was here.

When I see something in the corner of my eye I look over to see Bombur passing all of us. I would have never thought someone like Bombur could run so fast. He is the third one to pass through the large doors that act as a gate to the courtyard of the house. Gandalf pauses at the gate, allowing the others to pass through first. I wait as well looking back at the trees we passed through only moments ago to see the bear appear.

My heart leaps to my throat. The bear is large; larger than any warg and about the same size as the trolls. It breaks trees as it exits and as its paws hit the ground it sounds like thunder. Surprise more than anything overtakes me as I realize I have seen him before. The skin changer kept captive in Gundabad. I had seen the day he broke his chains and fled from Azog's cruel rule. I remember wishing I could join him. I only saw his bear form once, but the memory burns fresh in my mind now that he is before me once more. I am mesmerized and it takes Thorin's pull to stir me. As I approach the door to the house I realize that none of the dwarves have opened it. I see the small latch just out of their reach. I climb over some of them and lean over to reach it and lift it.

They fill the entry way with haste and try to close the door behind Gandalf, but are blocked by a large black muzzle. Every dwarf throws a shoulder into the wood in hopes of keeping him out. Bilbo is so startled by the intrusion that he draws his sword. I just stare at the door with bewilderment; of all the people this home could have belonged to – it is his. It suddenly becomes hard to breathe knowing my past has begun to haunt me.

The dwarves manage to hold the door to the point where the bear could no longer push in any further. He moves back, perhaps to make another attempt, but is stopped when a large piece wood is used as a barricade. True to theory the door flexes under the weight of the skin changer's push, but it does not give. The others are panting from the exertion and watching the door with wary eyes in case it should begin to give.

"What is that?" asks Ori.

"That is our host," replies Gandalf calmly. "His name is Beorn…and he is-"

"A skin changer," I whisper. I didn't think they heard me, but they did. They are all staring at me now, even Gandalf.

"Do you know him?" asks the wizard with curiosity.

"I saw him once. He was a captive in Gundabad," I say. My legs have started shaking from the pain of forcing myself to remain standing. "I saw him escape from that place…I never thought I would see him again." Before anything else can be said I collapse suddenly. I fall back into a wooden post.

Thorin rushes forward, "Oin!" He didn't need to shout though; the healer is right next to him. He starts to look at my wounds. It is apparent under Kili's cloak that I managed to open the wound on my neck. It must've happened when I went for the latch on the door. Luckily it's not bleeding horribly, but it's enough to worry the others. Fili and Kili leave the door to join me. Fili replaces himself with the post, allowing me to lean against him instead and Kili takes up beside us, still anxiously watching the door.

Gandalf continues to explain though, "Sometimes he is a huge black bear and sometimes he is a great, strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However, he is not overly fond of dwarves." Why am I not surprised?

"He's leaving," says Ori as he leans closer to the door. I hear Kili's sigh of relief in my ear.

"Come away from there," says Dori, frightened. He grabs his younger brother and leads him away from the door. "It's not natural, none of it. It's obvious…he's under some dark spell."

"Don't be a fool," says Gandalf chidingly. "He's under no enchantment, but his own. Alright now, get some sleep –all of you. You will be safe here tonight." He mumbles something else, but I cannot hear him.

Ever the worker, Oin immediately begins to tend to me. "Let's see if we can get her situated for the night. You lads start setting up a spot for her to rest for the night. I'm gonna see what I can do about stopping the bleeding. Thorin, you stay here with her," instructs the healer.

Fili places a small kiss on my forehead and Kili does the same to my cheek. As Fili moves away, Thorin takes his place in steadying me. Oin begins investigating a nearby chest for anything that might be useful; however, he is quick to realize there is nothing of use and move on. The others are suspiciously quiet as they examine the house, giving Thorin and I plenty of space near the door. Thorin's hand is on my waist sets my skin on fire, but it isn't discomforting. I turn my head to look up at him, but he is looking around the house.

I follow suit, curious about the man-bear I had seen once. There are many animals roaming around the house. I see goats, sheep and chickens wandering the house. I distinctly notice some white mice walking across a large chess table. It's through a doorway and passed what could only be a large dining room table. My heart unexpectedly drops again; the last time I had seen this man he had been a prisoner, alone in the dark dungeons of Gundabad. Here he is surrounded by animals and no other living soul for miles. Who did he play with? I turn my head slightly and I can see the lack of shine that the lacquer on the other table had. There is a layer of dust on the pieces; so I suppose the answer is no one.

Bombur, Bilbo, Gloin, and Nori make toward what might be a kitchen. Everything in the house is so large and open that the rooms are almost unidentifiable, but then again this is not a normal tenant in this unusual house. A kitchen is the best guess though seeing as it has there are various large jars of flour and honey. Upon the announcement of honey, Oin quickly follows them with makeshift bandages in hand in hopes of making a poultice.

I spare another glance at Thorin to see he is once more watching me. He seems surprised that I even bothered to look at him. Then he seems anxious that I caught him, his eyes flickering away from me and looking everywhere, but me. We all made it through once more, unharmed and with exhaustion running through me I can help giving him a smile. When he realizes I am still looking at him, he looks back and gives me a small smile in return. I turn in towards him and settle myself on his shoulder. He feels warm and regardless of the smell of sweat and goblin that lingers on him there is something else. It has no name so it must be him.

As I turn into him I can feel the brush of his beard against my temple. One would think that a beard would tickle or scratch your face if you pressed yours against it, but only a brush of his hair I all I could feel is softness. I could have just missed his beard entirely, as beards are very important to any dwarf, but I simply couldn't resist. Thorin makes a noise of some sort, maybe indignation, but I am too comfortable to care. I close my eyes for what felt like a brief moment, but before I know it Oin is waking me.

"Sit up straight, lass," he says as he begins to clean the wound. "We'll clean ya up, get some food in ya, and then you can rest."

I nod, but I don't necessarily agree with Oin's order of priorities; I'd rather sleep, then eat, and then clean up later. However, as I say that I begin to realize just how much my body reeks. My last bath that didn't consist of using a wet rag to scrub myself was in Rivendell. Soon, I think, I will take care of it soon. Instead I look over towards the stable area where larger animals are tethered.

I looking across the room, I can see the others settling down their rolls and some blankets the empty pins. Each are busy with their task they don't seem to notice my stare. I immediately lock on to Fili and Kili making a bed in the corner of a stall, beneath a small window for ventilation. The set up they had is obviously too big for me alone. I know it's for all of us and my heart swells.

They told me after our first day of trekking through the remaining peaks that they're intent on declaring me their sister; I would never say aloud just how much the notion made me happy. I accepted humbly with as many words as I could manage. My brothers…there is nothing else in the world I could want more.

"There you are," says Oin. He releases my arm and quickly looks it over before standing up. "Bilbo and will take a look through the stores to see what we can find." He turns to Thorin, "Keep her awake – we need her to eat something."

The healer disappears once more into the kitchen. Thorin shifts around momentarily. For a moment I worry that I had gone too far and he is avoiding a repeat of my earlier embrace, but that is not the case. He actually brings me closer to him after he finds what it is he is looking for. I'm almost back to my previous position when Thorin places something in my hand. I look down to see Thorin placing the peach Ori tried to give me earlier into my palm. I feel another smile on my face and take the fruit. When I do Thorin covers my hand with his. I look up at him to see him looking back at me.

"Make sure you eat all of it. I know the worst of you anemia has abated, but with your wound reopened we can't take any chances. You need to heal while we are here," he says seriously.

My heart flutters in my chest a little at his intensity. I recall a time where I simply thought Thorin and I to be similar, but as time and truths passed between us we have become…more. It also makes me realize though, that I don't know much about him. I have revealed myself to him, in more ways than one, and yet I know very little more than the legend of Thorin Oakenshield. The little I do know is in his personality than his past; I know he is honorable, loyal, and full of hope even if he doesn't realize it. I want to know more…I am drawn to him in a way I never have with anyone else in my life before.

I know there is more between us than we are willing to express fully – not that our situation is ideal. However, as these tender moments increase in their frequency it becomes harder to…ignore? I wouldn't say I'm ignoring it, but trying to balance romantic feelings with various life threatening situations is rather difficult. It only makes it harder when I know nothing about such relationships. My mother and father are hardly ideal for the plight I find myself in and despite Hadrien's "advice" it is hard to explain. Thankfully for the most part every moment Thorin and I have shared has been natural – easy as breathing.

He looks at me expectantly so to pacify him I start in on the peach. It's a good think this is the last one. The skin is beginning to toughen and the interior is softer than it should be. If we waited much longer, that fruit would have started to turn. It feels like under Thorin's gaze that I am going too slow, but I eventually make it to the pit. Thorin takes this from me and throws it into the fireplace near us. Somehow I doubt that Beorn would appreciate that, but I'm too tired to do anything to the contrary.

Thorin now moves his hand to my back and presses me closer to him. I wrap one of my arms around Thorin's waist and resume the position I had taken up earlier. I focus on Thorin's breathing and before I know it I am drifting once more. However, I stir when I hear Oin's voice after he returns once more.

"I thought I told ya not to let her sleep," says the son of Groin, frustratedly.

"'m not sleepin'," I mumble out.

Thorin's chest rumbles slightly though no sound actually comes out.

"Sure ya aren't, lass," says Oin sarcastically. "A look in the pantry speaks volumes about our host's dislike for fresh meat. Bilbo has foun' some cranberries and will make a drink for ya. We will have to wait until mornin' to find somethin' more effective."

"Alright," is the only response I can muster. My brain has become foggy and with Thorin so warm beside me the motivation to stay awake has almost disappeared altogether.

"I had best move her now. I don't want to leave her sleeping by the door," says Thorin. Oin only gives a hum of agreement before his voice disappears completely. Then I feel light and a little unstable, so I throw my other arm over Thorin's shoulder. He sets me down on Fili and Kili's makeshift bed tenderly, removing my arms from his person with delicate precision. However, I hold onto his hand and give him another smile. I notice Fili and Kili looking at us both in surprise, but they say nothing. I feel such relief to find a haven from Azog, not matter how dubious the host. I'm sure Thorin is feeling something similar and I can't help saying it out loud:

"We made it; we're safe. We're so close now. We will make to Erebor, Thorin. I know it."

Then he gifts me with a genuine smile and a nod of his head. His fingers tighten slightly around mine. "We will, Tahna. We'll be home soon."

Home…it sounds wonderful. The others clearly think the same as they start to smile with misty eyes at the thought. The moment settles for only a few seconds more before Bilbo appears with a large cup of cranberry juice.

"Here you go," offers the hobbit.

I give him a nod of thanks before sipping from the cup. It is rather bitter, but I drink it anyway. Once I finish, I return the cup to Bilbo and begin to settle in. I faintly hear the others talking around me for a little while, not sure how long. However, when Kili settled in behind me the warmth was enough to put me to sleep.

* * *

Thorin is the last one awake, except for Gandalf. Gandalf rests next to the fire, smoking his pipeweed silently. He is lying in the hay a few feet from his nephews and the ranger. With the space allotted he could have taken up a similar position as he had before, above their heads; but the desire to touch Tahna's hair would have been overwhelming, so he watches them safely from a distance.

The others had also sprawled out among the back pens. Just passed the post near his head is the hobbit. Thorin couldn't see many of them, but he could hear their breathing. He did notice the hobbit turning in his sleep, but is distracted when the large door opened. He turned his head to see past the piece of wood blocking his view, but is cautious in not creating too much noise. The sound of footsteps suggests it could only be their magical host. When the footsteps stop Thorin almost stops breathing; he could feel the skin changer watching them.

Beorn has nothing on, revealing the peculiar amount of hair growing along his back. They looked like hackles, despite being in human form. He is taller than any person Thorin has encountered; if anything might act as a comparison, he thinks about the trolls they had encountered earlier in the venture. He just watches silently for a moment – his gaze shifts to the wizard who is already looking back. They just look at each other for several moments before the skin changer breaks his stare and continues back into a further part of the house.

Thorin only releases his held breath when the sound of the skin changer's footfalls couldn't be heard. He sees the wizard relax physically, as though despite his calm he had been preparing for a fight. Anger and impatience boil beneath his skin; even if he and his kin were fine for now the wizard had brought them somewhere that may have been equally as dangerous as Azog's hunting party. A rush of frustration fills the dwarrow king. His whole life has been at the decisions and mercy of others. First it was Smaug who forced him from his home, then his father and grandfather who led them into battle at Azanulbizar; then his people who relied on him to lead and the mercy of men who provided him with the work to care for them. It is an endless cycle now: not having enough and relying on others to provide the work so they may earn enough to keep his kin alive.

Despite Gandalf's urging, it was his decision to undergo this quest. Once they have reclaimed their home they could be self reliant once more. Dams and children would never have to consider working and the dwarrow could stay home with their families or pursue their crafts at their leisure. There would be pride among his people once more. It is a day Thorin has long dreamt of and this quest would secure it. This mission is his choice and only those who followed him have taken it as their own.

He looks over at Tahna once more as she curls herself closer to Fili's back in her sleep. She had been another choice he had made. It's strange now to think that he might have left her behind, never known her. Gandalf had even at one point advised against bringing her.

It had been his decision to bring her with them…and it comforts him; she comforts him and she chose them. Thorin takes heart not only in his decisions, but hers. She knew what she would be getting into, for the most part, but chose to follow him. Her connection to the company palpable, but it is only because she chose them. She wants to be here. He may not have known everything at that the time he offered her a place in his company, but he cannot think of anything worth changing that.

Thorin changes his mind and moves over to where they slept. He takes up a position by their heads once more, propped against the stone wall. His eyes rest on the three of them, watching their breathing until he slips under Irmo's embrace; dreaming of when they would reclaim the mountain with Tahna beside him.

* * *

The air is musty from the staleness of the hay, but it is warm. There is a loud noise, not steady, but consistent. As it continues I realize it is muffled by the walls. I open my eyes to see the sunlight streaming in from the window above. I move away from it, hoping to hide my eyes with Fili's arm, but that's when I realize I am alone. I become alert, finally drawing more energy than I have had in days.

As I regain my senses from slumber, I can hear the dwarves muttering amongst themselves down the hall. I hadn't heard them over the rhythmic striking coming from outside. I rise, leaving the warm bed my brothers made the night before. I notice Thorin's coat had been placed over me so I leave it lying nicely on the hay. The others had all left heir things amongst the stalls so I doubt there is much danger here at the moment.

As I walk passed the oxen in the barn I stop at one of them and gently brush the hair along its necks. I feel a sudden longing to brush Wildwind's mane and I wish for the presence my equestrian friend. The beast seems to enjoy the attention, but with a pat on their heads I continue down the hall to a secondary door.

The hushed voices become a little louder, but I find that they have become quieter since I woke up. I unconsciously fall back into a stealthy volume, quietly observing to see what's wrong. I finally reach a doorway where only a few of dwarves stood. Bofur is directing them and they leave in pairs. I am confused to say the least, but I remain silent though I do notice the strange noise has stopped. Eventually, Bofur and his kin stumble out the door. The only one remaining closest to the door is Thorin, but before I can ask him anything he also steps outside the archway.

He hadn't seen me, but I'm curious about what they are doing and why were they so quiet. I follow him, unsure of what else to do. I can see all the others lined up outside, looking slightly nervous. They are all looking in one particular direction, perhaps it's Beorn. Bombur is the first one to see me and he looks worried. He steps a little closer to the house, making motions in Iglishmek for me to go back inside.

I panic a little bit wondering what could be so dangerous for me to have to back. I grab the hilt behind my back in case the company is in trouble. Thorin saw Bombur's movement and despite his stony face there is an anxiety there I haven't seen before. I had hoped that I would have the element of surprise against the skin changer, but apparently he notices.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHO IS THAT?"

The voice is thunderous and frightens me at first, but the dwarves are already at Beorn's mercy. It wouldn't do to leave them to face him alone. So with a confident step I enter the light of day. I try looking at Beorn, but my eyes have a poor time adjusting. Thorin offers me his hand to help be down the two large steps. I notice Fili and Kili's tight faces and hope that the situation is not nearly so bad as to warrant that.

So for the first time I take a look at our host in his human form. The first thing I notice is his amber eyes, not gold like mine, but at the same time not the common brown found among men. They are focused and while initially annoyed, he now seems surprised. He is also very tall as I can tell from where Gandalf stands next to him. His natural tan, the dirt on his arms and chest, and his hair prevent me from being able to tell where one begins and another ends. He holds an axe in his hand, which indicates that he was the one making the noise earlier. I do also notice the shackle that remains on his left arm. A painful reminder…

He says nothing and stares at me silently. As the moments pass the company becomes more tense, fearing that my presence has only made him more aggravated. Slowly, the bear-man lowers his axe, leaning it against the stump beside him. He approaches in large strides, Thorin quickly moves me behind him to protect me. Beorn notices this and turns towards Thorin with a distasteful look.

I don't like the way he looks at Thorin, as if he were some sort of…thing. I grip Thorin's shoulder and bring him closer to me, accepting his protection, but also in hopes of keeping Thorin calm. I can feel the tension between both sides; something must be said.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Master Beorn. I know we are not exactly welcome guests, but the shelter from the orc pack is greatly appreciated," I say.

"Mmmm. Yes; the orcs," says Beorn aloud, though more to himself. He looks back over his shoulder at the open fields, as if seeing the threat just at the edge of his boulders. He turns back to me and looks between myself and Gandalf. "I would like an explanation and I am fond of stories, but as you said, young one, I am your host and it would not do to see my guests go hungry. Enter my halls and I will see you are feed. Come!"

The large man walks past us, his gaze lingering on me slightly. As he disappears down the hall we all release a breath we had unwittingly been holding. Kili comes up to Thorin and I, at first I think he is going to talk about the strangeness of the moment, but I am wrong.

"I think he likes you."

For most I think it would warrant a blush, but the uneasiness I feel with Beorn nearby has made me unhappy with Kili's comment more than embarrassed. My angle didn't allow me to see Thorin's face, but he gave the clipped reply.

"Don't be foolish, Kili. However, he did respond," he turns to me with a blank expression. "Perhaps you should tell him what happened."

"I, for one, agree with Thorin," pipes in Gandalf.

I had almost forgotten the wizard altogether so I turn to him, "He's your "friend." Why don't you tell him? It makes sense, especially since you are the one who led us here."

Gandalf looks a little abashed as the dwarves look between us with interest. I doubt the wizard is often chastised so I take advantage where I can. It serves him right though. I am not entirely alright with this position, but if I'm willing to face a dragon for my dwarves then a skin changer shouldn't be such a challenge. That doesn't change the fact that I am uneasy…

I sigh, "I'll do what needs to be done. Come on, our host is waiting."

The others all file in, heading for the dining room. After Dwalin falls in behind the rest, only Thorin and I remain. He reaches for the hand I have settled on his shoulder still. He looks up at me, something indiscernible on his face.

"Something bothers you," he breaths. "What is wrong, Tahna?"

I can feel the sad smile on my face. The memories of Gundabad have been resurfacing since seeing Azog and they are beginning to become crippling. My uncle and Morinehtar are the only ones alive who knows what happened in those mountains. They are both so far away. My mind is crying out for release of the burden I carry. Thorin has carried so many burdens, I hardly want to be another, but at the same time he is one of the few I can entrust it too.

I can't – or rather I don't – want to weigh the pain of my memories on the shoulders of my brothers; not yet. I trust the others with my life, but my wants also demand comfort along with sympathy and if I am entirely honest the one person want it from the most is Thorin.

"I will speak of it to you later. I swear," I say. I decide to test Thorin's possible reception to my tale by stepping closer to him; as I have no doubt I will need physical contact during the retelling of my memories. I remember distinctly falling apart in Neir and Hadrien's arms when I told them. At the moment my front is completely aligned with his back. It's almost funny how the top of his head rests at the top of the swell of my chest. I did not hold tight. This is his moment to decide before I make the mistake of possibly giving him more than he wanted.

I am entirely nervous and for a moment he says and does nothing. Just before the word mistake can cross my mind he takes my other hand to wrap both my arms around his neck. Now I am completely embracing him and he draws me even closer, to the point where I can bend my head to tuck my face behind his ear. I settle there, despite the strangeness of the position I am too delighted to care.

"Then I will wait for you," he says. I can hear a double meaning in his words, but I do not question it because I do not feel the need. To hold him here and now is enough.

"Alright you two," says a gruff voice. I look over to see Dwalin standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. He watches us with a smug look on his face from the inner doorway. "Our…host has begun to ask questions and I believe we agreed on the ranger being the one to answer them."

"Very well," says Thorin reluctantly. He takes my hand in his and leads me back inside. As we pass Dwalin the two exchange a look that I don't fully understand, but I have a feeling has more to it. Thorin takes me back to the dining room, putting me between Fili and Kili at the end of the table. Thorin remains standing at the back corner of the table by Fili. The table is surprisingly full of food, mostly bread and a variety of fresh fruits. Beorn has begun to pour everyone a large…tankard of milk. He looks up at me, making eye contact, and continues to pour drinks.

I pull in and Kili puts a plate of food before me with a smile. I take a bite of the bread and a groan releases from my throat with how good the honey bread tastes. It is sweet and even now I can feel the filling effect it has on me. Fili chuckles a little, but falls silent under my silencing glare.

"So you are the one they call Oakenshield? Tell me: Why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?" asks Beorn. He fills Gloin's cup with measured precision.

"He has been threatening the lives of me and my kin for ages," deflects Thorin. Then he adds, "Tahna mentioned that you had been a guest of the Defiler's in Gundabad." At that Beorn looks over at me with a knowing look.

"My people were the first to live in the mountains there were few…human settlements; until the orcs came down from the North. The Defiler killed most of my family; some he enslaved, but not for work you understand." The chinking of the chain suddenly rings as he moves. "It was for sport. Caging skin changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him." The air is heavy with his insinuation, but no one makes a comment.

"There are others like you?" asks Bilbo innocently.

"Once there were many," says Beorn. He says sadly as he places the pitcher of milk on the table.

"And now?" presses Bilbo.

"Now there is only one," says the man-bear. At least in that we were different. There were probably a dozen of those that had managed to escape the destruction of Imelkane. They lived with my uncle and cousin in Thoth, but I knew little of their day to day lives. Beorn takes a seat in his massive wooden chair. "You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?"

"Yes," replies Gandalf since I put a handful of grapes in my mouth, "before Durin's Day."

"You are running short on time," says Beorn with a measured tone.

"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood," says the wizard. A small shiver passes through me as I think of the forest. I have been putting it out of my mind. With the Misty Mountains between us and Erebor I had been allowed to focus more on that, but with that obstacle removed it suddenly looming nearby and more pressing than I care to realize.

"A darkness lies upon that forest. Foul things creep beneath those trees. I would not venture there except in great need." Even the large, dangerous skin changer shares my sentiments.

"We will take the elven road. Their path is still safe," says Gandalf.

"Safe? The wood elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They are less wise and more dangerous…" He way he stares at me in particular make me wonder if he knows about the danger that faces me for entering Thranduil's realm, but it doesn't seem possible. "But it matters not." At that my eyebrows furrow.

"What do you mean?" asks Thorin.

"These lands are crawling with orcs. Their numbers are growing and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive." His words are true, the Greenwood may be close, but not close enough. With the open fields between us and the wood the Gundabad wargs would run us down. With that statement, Beorn stands up and approaches both of us. I knew he was tall, but from this position it's clear that he is looming over us. "I don't like dwarves – they are greedy and blind; blind to the lives they deem lesser than their own." I feel the need to defend my friends, but clearly their own silence in the defense of their honor speaks in volumes; best keep my opinions to myself for the moment. "But orcs I hate more…what do you need?"

"As you said, travelling on foot is foolish. If you have a mounts that could provide us with the speed we require to make it to the forest it would be most appreciated," says Gandalf immediately.

"Easily done," is Beorn's reply. "But you will release them before you enter the wood. I would not have them be tainted by such dark magic."

"Of course, naturally. Then we would also need provisions seeing as how the goblins took the rest of our supplies," adds Gandalf cheerfully. I think he's just happy that Beorn has agreed to help us. He had best not push Beorn too hard.

"Goblins?" asks Beorn curiously. No one says anything for a moment. He moves back towards the corner, sitting between Bifur and Thorin. His eyes are on me as continues. "I would very much like to hear what has happened in your travels."

My stomach rolls uncomfortably, but I do my best to ignore it by wiping my mouth and responding, "Well I joined Thorin and his company in the village of Bree in the West. It was much by chance as I was hunting some ghouls that were stealing children…"

* * *

"…and that's when we, uh, came across your house," I finish.

It has been some hours later with my retelling of our tale from Bree onward. Bilbo has helped several times throughout the story, sometimes to add his input and other times to correct me. It helps it seems as our host enjoys the hobbit's inserts with great amusement. Beorn has been enraptured with the story, but I never really found myself relaxing in the presence of the skin changer. I found myself looking at his shackles or scars and found myself fighting back the memories of frozen halls.

"Quite the misfortune has befallen you, but it makes for a most interesting tale," he says. The large man turns to Gandalf, "My thanks for killing the Great Goblin. I hate goblins just as much, if not more than orcs."

"It was my pleasure," says Gandalf grimly.

A brief moment passes before Beorn stands, "You are welcome in my lands for as long as you need. I will provide you the provisions you require when you leave as well as ponies for your ride to the edge of Mirkwood. Just ensure you do not wander too far beyond my halls and DO NOT be outside at nightfall."

"Thank you, Master Beorn," says Gandalf.

"I'm going out for now to check my borders – perhaps I can…relieve some of your pursuers of their task. Remain within the courtyard and all will be well," he says before he strides towards the door and leaves. I knew the dwarves had been tense during the initial meeting, but apparently they had also been anxious. A few moments after the door closes the others visibly relax.

"I canna believe he would call us greedy. We are on a noble quest with our very lives on the line; how is tha greed?" asks Gloin, indignant.

"I don't think he meant us specifically," says Bofur. I agreed somewhat. I have met few dwarves in my life before now. They have always been closed off, but not necessarily blind. Their race has suffered since their inception; it is in their nature to keep their kin and livelihood safe above all others. Is that what it means to be greedy in Beorn's eyes? To love anyone so much that you would chose them over everything else?

I picture Thorin having to choose between spending the money he earned on a starving family or his struggling family. I know his choice and while it is hard – it would also be mine. I am a woman, a ranger, and human. I cannot be perfect and I if I had a family I would always choose them. I know now that I would always choose my dwarves. I also know if Thorin had to choose between feeding himself or that same family, he would go hungry. As I look around I have a feeling all of the others would do the same, even sweet little Bilbo. It makes me happy…

My mother comes to mind as a comparison. She always kept her distance from everyone; even my father. I always thought it was just her way, but now, being given the love of these dwarves I know she had been selfish. She refused to share herself with others, the way my dwarves have shared with me, and I with them. I look amongst them as they agreed that while dwarves keep possessions close, that didn't mean they were greedy. If love is greed then I pray that I never go a day without such a sin.

The moment is too much and I silently slip away while my brothers spoke animatedly with other members of the company. A glance at Thorin told me he is fully distracted with Bifur and Oin. With Beorn placated and no longer nearby there is a comfort in the freedom of being able to move about the grounds. I leave through the same door where Beorn left earlier and enter the courtyard. All throughout the courtyard there is an array of bird houses and bee hives, housing bees of unusual size. I walk slowly, allowing the sun to heat my body. I notice that his garden conglomerates unnatural and wild elements. There are clearly some areas where he planted select fruits, vegetables, and herbs. However, the rest of it seems like the local flora had taken root in his yard.

The ivy climbs every wall, leaving it covered in a bright green mosaic. Flowers from the nearby fields we had run passed yesterday appear in patches throughout the garden. I walk along the outside of the house to the back – where Beorn had been cutting wood when we were introduced. Behind that is another gate, revealing the tree line that hides the house, along with some rolling hills. There is one paddock that houses painted horses and ponies. I approach, leaving the safety of Beorn's walls behind me. I lean against the fence post and watch them play together in tandem.

I grasp the wood as anxiety suddenly settles in me. Mirkwood lies ahead and despite Gandalf's reassurance that the elven path would be secure, I find myself siding with Beorn's doubts. I would give almost anything to spare the dwarves the pain of having to pass through the dark forest, but there is no other option. Of course there is also the promise I made to Tauriel. Even if we made it through the forest with no interference it would still weigh heavily on my heart. And even if I wasn't entirely ready to admit it, I am afraid of being caught by Thranduil. Now that I had the family I wanted I'm terrified at the thought of losing them…

Something brushes against my hand and I startle. However, I quickly realize the horses and ponies had come to investigate me. I slowly extend my hands, fingers together and palms out so that they may smell me at their leisure without fear of me. There is an intelligence in their eyes that reminds me of Wildwind; not only smart, but emotionally aware. Soon they grow bored of me and return to making merry.

I wonder how Wildwind fairs. While the elves are not my primary choice I know that they will take good care of her. I hope they take her out often. She doesn't like staying one place for too long; I bet at this point she is becoming restless. A smile graces my lips as I imagine her giving the elven handlers in Rivendell a hard time.

"Tahna?"

I look over my shoulder to see Thorin approaching me – Dwalin several feet behind him waiting at the gate. I feel apprehensive with Dwalin standing at a distance, like there's going to be trouble, but I focus on Thorin anyway.

"What are you doing out here? Beorn instructed us to remain within the courtyard. You are too far from the house," grumbles Thorin.

I feel like laughing; does Thorin realize how mothering he sounds right now? I know my condition has set him on edge and made him more cautious than I thought possible for him, but I do have limits. Protective is a natural state of being for Thorin so I remain gentle and calm in my explanation.

"I wanted some fresh air," I say placatingly.

"There is plenty of that within the walls," counters Thorin. I smother a laugh – he could be giving Dori a run for his money. He stands next to me with his arms crossed and a disapproving look on his face. I glance back over at the horses, trying to find the words.

"Beorn reminds me of Gundabad and it makes me…uncomfortable," I say honestly.

"The skin changer has left," he says. While it is a statement, the question in his voice is clear. I pull myself away from the pasture and look at Thorin. There is more in his eyes than he is willing to say. I look over at Dwalin and wonder if it is because of him, but I can't tell. The taller of the two looks back at me with a disinterested stare. I look back at Thorin, who is waiting for my answer.

"Since seeing Azog I haven't been able to stop thinking about the time I spent in Gundabad. It feels like it's haunting me. Then coming to the house of the only skin changer alive, who was also a prisoner of the Pale Orc. It just…it is overwhelming," I breathe as my hands tighten into fists. I'm not whispering, it's not like I'm trying to hide anything, but the openness is difficult for me even now. I would have thought I would be used to it by now, but it seems that this wound has never really healed.

Thorin gently takes my hand and leads me back to the gate. I follow him, despite my reservations about returning so quickly to Beorn's halls. However, he stops when we start to pass Dwalin and tells him something in the deep guttural of Khuzdul. Dwalin looks up at me only once, his face giving away nothing before turning to the house and disappearing inside without so much as a word.

"He will keep the others busy while we speak," he says. We find ourselves returning to the other door. It is barricaded and quiet, which is surprising, considering there is still a house full of dwarves beside it. Thorin offers me a spot against the door and once I am sitting he joins me. He removes a whetting stone from his pocket and begins to work on Orcrist, despite that I don't think it needs sharpening. I watch him for a few moments, allowing it to fill the silence and taking the chance to put off the inevitable.

After a few moments of silence Thorin says, "Take your time. As I said I'll wait."

His words make me smile, but it doesn't make the discomfort subside. So I try to make the situation a little more light-hearted, "I don't think Dwalin's skills of diversion are that good…"

His mouth twitches a little, but he doesn't give a response. I take a deep breath and release it. I need to get it off my chest before it consumes me. I couldn't imagine facing Azog again like this. I look over at Thorin and he doesn't seem to be looking my way, entirely focused on his sword. When I draw my eyes away I notice the flowers by my side. I pick them and twirl them between my fingers; I believe they are called rock roses. They usually frequent rockier regions than this, but then again, we are close to the mountains. The white color reminds me of the snow …

"The first heavy fall of snow for the winter covered the ground when my mother finally went into labor…"

* * *

 **I know that's a crappy place to end, but I had a really hard time trying to decide where to end. The flashback is a bit too long and I wanted you to see Thorin's reaction immediately so we will get the sadness out in the next chapter along with some fluff. Not to mention I'm not in the right place to write something so sad at the moment, but soon! However, I also think it's time to reveal why Balin has been acting so strange…**


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